


Take It All Away

by ann2who



Series: Say When Verse [9]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Divergence - Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Roller Coaster, Established Relationship, M/M, Married Couple, Original Character(s), Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Steve Feels, Team Feels, Tony Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-08-11 08:48:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 71,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7884559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ann2who/pseuds/ann2who
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve and Tony love each other—that would undoubtedly always be true. However, there might just be things that don’t care for love, that don’t care what it means for the two to take different sides. Things that none of them could’ve foreseen. Things that might just rip everything apart.</p><p>When the United Nations attempt to put restrictions on the Avengers, Tony has to admit that the pawns had been in place for a long time, he just hadn’t dared to admit it to himself. And now, it is simply a matter of who will move first—and more importantly: in which direction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Preconceived Notions

**Author's Note:**

> IT. IS. DONE. And I'm so nervous! I hope you guys still want to read a continuation of this story and I really really hope you'll like how I did this. Obviously, there will be a few major changes due to prior changes in my verse. But I think it worked out well and I hope you'll enjoy the ride.
> 
> There'll be about 10 chaps, it's all mostly written so I'll try to post regularly. Thanks to my beta-reader morphia.
> 
> HERE WE GO.

**Steve**

 

“Ba-ba,” came a joyful sound from the small room nearby. A pause, followed by a few gurgles, then: “Ba-ba-ba-ba.”

Steve opened his eyes, and stared up into Tony’s widened browns. They broke apart from their kiss, looking at one another in dazed wonder.

“Did he just—” Steve started incoherently. One of his hands was still tightly curled around Tony’s cock, and Tony had been deliciously grinding his hip down against Steve’s erection, and that was admittedly making it a bit difficult to form a decent thought. On the next beat, Steve gave off an _Uhmpff_ when Tony suddenly raised himself to his knees by pushing both hands firmly down on Steve’s stomach.

“He _talked_ ,” Tony shouted in about the same voice he did when he had an amazing idea and was a second from rushing down to the workshop. “He said something, right?”

Not waiting for an answer, Tony pushed himself off the bed and attempted to run across the room, only just realizing that his pants were still pooled around his ankles.

“Be careful,” Steve commented on an amused chuckle when Tony tried to push his still half-hard erection back into his pants. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

Looking down, Steve willed himself to get a little less excited, too. He took three deep breaths and thought about training exercises and his latest read on counter-defensive strategies and the pile of laundry he had to do tomorrow.

Another two inhales and exhales later, curiosity got the better of him, and Steve pushed himself into a sitting position, pulling his sweatpants back over his hips. He grabbed a swipe from the box on his nightstand and rubbed it over his hands before he followed Tony through the door. On most days, Ian still slept in the cradle next to their bed. Only when things got a bit more, well, _private_ , they had decided put him to bed in the new baby room.

“Ba-ba-ba-ba,” Ian blabbered again, when Steve stepped into the room. He squealed happily as Tony pulled him out of the cradle and against his chest, turning him so that he fit comfortably in the crook of his right arm.

“That’s a draw,” Tony said, glaring at Steve. “That’s not ‘papa’.”

Steve smirked. “It’s closer to papa than dada.”

“How’s ‘p’ closer to ‘b’ than ‘d’?”

Steve just raised a brow.

“ _Fine_. It’s—” Tony bristled, then looked down at Ian. “Hey buddy, say ‘da-da’.”

Ian chose that moment to smile at Tony peacefully and not say anything at all.

“You’re a brat,” Tony chided. “He’s definitely your son.”

“We’re both taking that as a compliment,” Steve replied, laughing as he walked up to Tony. “He really talked, huh? That’s early.”

He knew because Tony had developed a fierce obsession with writing down each and every one of Ian’s stepping-stones and letting FRIDAY compare them with the average. Secretly, Steve thought Ian would simply do and learn things when it felt right for him to do so, but Tony’s need to support and encourage their son on every step of his way was endearing in itself, so he figured it was okay. As with everything else, they balanced each other well.

Tony huffed. “What did you expect? He’s got my brains—”

“ _Hey_.”

“—and your determination. Taking that into consideration, four and a half months is pretty late.”

Ian didn’t seem to care much for their argument and instead raised his legs a little, playing with his toes as he so often did these days.

“I guess he isn’t tired yet, after all, huh,” Steve said, brushing a finger over Ian’s forehead.

Tony smiled in understanding. “Guess not. Sorry.”

Steve brushed a quick kiss against Tony’s temple. “‘s okay. We can catch up later.”

Together, they walked over into their living room and sat down at the kitchen island. While Tony bounced a happy and all too-awake Ian on his knees, Steve stared balefully at a sink full of dirty dishes.

“When did we use so many dishes?” he asked, looking at Tony for an answer.

“What do you mean, ‘we’? That’s all on Wilson and Barnes. The two together are a certified disaster whenever they’re up here.”

As Steve stood at the sink scraping dried food off the plates, before he put them in the dishwasher, Tony crept up behind him and slipped an arm around his waist. He nuzzled and kissed his neck, making Steve smile.

“You know what?” Tony asked suddenly. “Let’s go out tonight, just you and me.”

Steve turned in his arms. “Isn’t it too late already?”

“Not _that_ late, grandpa.”

Steve hummed, glancing at the clock. Tony was right, it wasn’t even past nine. “Where would you have us go?”

Tony shrugged. “You choose.”

“But… what about Ian? It’s too late to call Veronica.”

Their nanny sure had come over during crazy hours once or twice already, but Steve tried not to make a habit out of it. After a weeklong background check as well as double-checking her references, Veronica had been the only nanny that Tony had deemed acceptable, and Steve really tried not to push her patience if he could help it.

“Nat’s downstairs,” Tony said. “Instant baby-sitter.”

Steve thought it over for a moment, then smiled. It had taken long enough for Tony to allow a professional to care for Ian for so much as an hour, so Steve should probably be encouraged that Tony suggested a teammate for the first time. And anyway, a few hours for themselves sounded heavenly. “Okay,” he said, returning Tony’s embrace.

“Great! You better put on your tightest pants, honey,” Tony instructed cheekily as he walked back towards their bedroom. He was swaying ridiculously from side to side with Ian on his arms, and Steve couldn’t hold back a laugh as he watched them go. “I’m going to take your papa out and show him off, baby,” he told Ian. “What do you say about that? Can you say _Captain Tight-Pants_?”

 

* * *

 

“You ready to go?” Steve called out, as he descended down the stairs a good half hour later. Even if he’d never admit how easily he was indulging Tony’s whimsical requests, he _had_ put on one of his tighter-fitting jeans and dug both thumbs into his front pockets in hope Tony would notice.

“I’m ready,” Tony said, clearly _not_ noticing Steve or anything else since he was busy being a complete and utter nervous wreck. _Right_ , Steve thought. He had a feeling he knew exactly what was coming now.

Natasha was sitting on the couch in the middle of the common living room. She had her legs crossed and cast Tony one of her patented ‘unimpressed looks’. Bucky was sprawled on the reading chair next to her, flipping through the TV channels, not sparing Tony any attention, and Rhodes and Bruce were sitting on a couch a little further away. They were both sporting equally amused smiles as they regarded Tony’s fidgeting, jittery form.

“Look,” Tony began. “I know that you know where everything is, and I know that you know I know it, but I’m paranoid, and I won’t enjoy this if I didn’t give you the short version.”

Natasha rolled her eyes, but nodded. “Fire away.”

“Great, okay: The number of the restaurant is on the pad next to the phone. So’s the number of Ian’s pediatrician. I fed him about two hours ago, and now that he’s awake, he’ll probably want to eat again before we get home, so there’s a can of formula in the cupboard. I pinned a manual on the carton, and if you’re still not sure how to do it, feel free to call me and—”

Steve took Tony’s hand and began tugging him towards the door. “Come on, dad. They know how to make Ian’s milk and the night’s not getting any younger.”

“Okay, okay,” Tony said. “I’ve got my cell phone, just… call me whenever, yeah? Or ask FRIDAY, she’s got all the Ian-specific-instructions. But calling me is fine, too.”

“ _Yes_ , Tony,” Natasha said, shaking her head in amusement.

Tony backed up towards the door. “He’s a bit of a night owl these days,” he called over. “So don’t be surprised when he won’t go to sleep till midnight.”

“We’re all night owls, Stark,” Bucky replied good-naturedly, raising his voice for the first time. “ _Go_.”

“But—”

“I’ll throw you out,” Rhodes warned. “Don’t think I won’t.”

Tony turned over to face Steve. “Why aren’t we getting rid of all these people who shouldn’t be living here?”

Steve chuckled, his hand gently slapping Tony’s rump. “You know how it is: Bad pennies, they keep coming back anyway.”

“You love us,” Rhodes said with a smile, “that’s why.”

“I—”

Reclaiming Tony’s hand, Steve dragged him to the elevator.

“Just ignore him,” Bruce told Natasha and Bucky. “It’s a phase.”

“It is not a phase,” Tony sputtered, and tried to make Steve stop, “ _excuse_ you.”

“It definitely is,” Steve said, grinning before he planted a wet and open-mouthed kiss on Tony’s tight-pressed mouth, then blindly slapped a hand on the elevator’s button. Instead of pulling back, Tony fake-moaned, loud and very obscene, before he poked his tongue out and swiped it all across Steve’s lower lip. Steve simply kept kissing him, laughing.

“You two are really incorrigible, you know that?” Bucky’s voice was echoed by Natasha’s chuckles. “Can’t you, like, wait until you’re alone?”

Tony tried to glare at him over Steve’s shoulder without much success. “Shut it. We’re having a moment here.”

An inelegant snort wafted from Bucky, as he pointed to Tony’s neck where the hickey Steve had left there earlier was still very visible. “Looks like you’ve already had a few of those.”

Tony tried glaring at him again, but the smile twitching at Bucky’s lips just made him raise an eyebrow and cross his arms over his chest. “You’re one to talk. You guys have more ‘moments’ than any other couple in history.”

Bucky snorted again, though he tried to hold it back this time. If Natasha hadn’t cradled Ian against her chest in that moment, she’d have slapped him already, Steve was sure of it. “Point.”

“ _Go_ , Tones,” Rhodes said and stood up. He leaned over to where Natasha was holding Ian, smiling down at him. “We’ll keep the little nugget entertained, won’t we? You love hanging around your Ol’ Namesake, don’t you, buddy?”

“ _Namesakes_ ,” Bucky pointed out.

“Sure, ‘namesakes’,” Rhodes conceded, then leaned in to whisper into Ian’s ear: “Don’t listen to that guy. You know who you’re named after, right, little guy?”

“Hey!” Bucky called, now reaching over as well. Ian squealed at the attention, and Steve’s heart did a little jump when he reached for one of Bucky’s metal fingers without an ounce of fear. “That’s right. Who’s your favorite uncle?” Bucky cooed.

Rhodes snorted. “Are you kidding me?”

Next to Steve, the elevator’s doors had opened, and Steve was able to pull Tony in before he could participate in the argument, so that clearly counted as a win.

“One of these days…” Tony told Steve, as soon as they were alone. His voice was full of resignation. “…we’re gonna come home and our son will juggle with knifes and small caliber guns.”

Steve smiled indulgently and stepped closer, pulling Tony into a hug and kissing his forehead. “At least we can be sure he’ll learn from the best.”

Tony huffed, but there was a small smile playing with his lips. “True.”

 _True_ was, Steve was infinitely glad that Bucky seemed to be so relaxed, these days. Despite Tony’s and Phil’s combined efforts, Bucky’s trial didn’t seem to be coming to any conclusion. With the founding of the ATCU and other task forces trying to control each and every enhanced individuals out there, there were new witnesses called into court almost every week. People like Thaddeus Ross and Glenn Talbot were clearly supporting a conviction, and they seemed to want to make an example of Bucky. Therefore, his house detention wouldn’t be revoked any time soon.

Bucky was still charged for murder, still categorized as a liability and a potential threat.

It was getting ridiculous. Bucky’s trial had lasted over eighteen months now, and Steve wished he could be helping him, but instead, things only got worse every day.

Down in the garage, Steve opened the car door for Tony, ignoring his eye roll at the gentlemanly move. Then, he came around and climbed into the driver’s seat.

They’d agree that Steve would be driving from time to time. Tony _hated_ not sitting in the driver’s seat, it was one of those more serious quirks Tony hadn’t managed to get rid of. Yet, with Steve, he at least allowed to give it a try from time to time.

Didn’t mean he was a _good_ front passenger.

Before turning the key in the ignition, Steve turned to look at Tony. “Not a word on my driving.”

Tony opened his mouth to speak, closed it again to think, then said, “I said I wouldn’t, didn’t I?”

“I’m gonna turn around without warning if you do.”

Wearing that same smirk that had once, long ago, made Steve’s fingers itch to smack it off his face, Tony nodded. “Got it.”

Steve smiled, started the car and backed out of the driveway. There were a few minutes of comfortable silence as he directed them through the streets. The huge trees cast their shadows across the driveway, while early blue and yellow wildflowers had begun to spring up along the way. Steve leaned back in his seat and paused in the midst of the flurry that was their everyday-life to simply appreciate the moment. They were going on a _date_.

It was so ordinary, so relaxing, so—

“Seriously, are you planning to skip our reservation or do you just enjoy driving so slow?”

Steve took a deep breath. Held it. Exhaled.

 

* * *

 

“Did you have fun?” Tony asked when they drove back to the tower a good two hours later. Tony sat behind the steering wheel now, because his comment on the way out had led to a fleeting argument and they’d both decided Tony’s antics weren’t worth it to spoil the evening.

They’d had a _really_ nice dinner, which was overpriced in a way that still had Steve’s toes curl, but he could admit he loved seeing Tony’s eyes twinkle whenever he tasted something he liked, and they hadn’t been to a nice restaurant in ages, so Steve guessed they could indulge in a little luxury.

Afterwards, they’d walked around a few blocks, making a small detour into Central Park where they got a cone of ice cream each, before eventually heading back to the car.

Now, Tony was lounging in his car seat, a hand wrapped around Steve’s, the other sat lightly on the steering wheel as he glanced at him in question.

“I did,” Steve said. “I’d almost forgotten what it’s like to eat a meal without providing one at the same time.”

Their ability to be alone had taken a serious hit over the last few weeks. While Steve wouldn’t give up Ian for the world, it took some readjustment. Suddenly, there was a very demanding third person in their lives, and between their jobs and caring for their baby, there wasn’t a lot of time just for the two of them.

“Sure you don’t want to go somewhere else?” Tony offered. “It’s early yet.”

His voice sounded almost easy-going, but Steve could feel the way Tony’s fingers impatiently drummed against the steering wheel, and how his mouth twitched with whatever horror-scenario was currently running through his head. If he had to guess he’d say Tony was trying to reactivate Extremis by sheer force of will just so he could log into a camera at Stark Tower to see for himself if Ian was alright.

Steve smiled knowingly. “Now that you mention it, why don’t we make a little detour to Coney Island? The park should be open for another hour.”

Tony stilled, and it took him a moment to gather himself at what was obviously an answer he hadn’t expected, before he answered. “Sure,” he said stiffly. “That’s… that’s a great idea.”

“Maybe stay a while after, I do love Coney at night.”

Tony’s jaw twitched. “ _Great_.”

Steve had to bite his cheeks to keep from laughing. “Walk around the beach, you know… let our spirits flow.”

“Fine, if you want—” Tony stopped himself, paused, then glared at Steve. “You’re messing with me.”

Steve snorted, not bothering to keep the façade up any longer. “Just admit it, you’re dying to get home.”

Tony huffed. “No, I’m just… he’ll be tired soon, and I know Nat knows his night routine, but…”

“It’s not the same, I know.”

Tony’s expression fell. “I’m being clingy, aren’t I?”

That made Steve laugh. “You? Never. Let’s go home, we’ll tuck him in together. He could use a bath today anyway.”

Tony’s eyes immediately brightened.

Steve chuckled. “It’s sweet how much you love bath time.”

“He’s just so happy whenever he’s in there.”

“I know,” Steve said, then leaned in for a deep kiss. “It’s alright. I miss him, too.”

 

* * *

 

Steve was the first one through the elevator door, and he stopped so abruptly that Tony ran right into him.

That… was not what he’d hoped to see upon returning home.

Bucky was sitting on the floor in the far end of the room, a good dozen meters away. His face was buried in both of his hands, his knees drawn tight to his chest. His whole body was shaking heavily. Rhodes and Bruce were nowhere to be seen, which wasn’t unusual—Natasha, on the other hand, sat on the couch with a crying Ian in her lap, holding a plastic bag filled with ice against her cheek while she tried to soothe the baby.

On the right side of her face, Steve could see a few very colorful bruises. Her throat was red and Steve could see the vague traces of a handprint.

“What the heck…” he started to say. “What happened?”

Tony took that as the cue to shove past Steve, his eyes flickering all across the room, taking in the scene. “ _What_ ,” he breathed.

Steve turned in the other direction when he heard a noise, and saw Bruce standing in the kitchen, punching numbers on the phone. As he hit the final number, he turned and saw them. Before he could speak, the cell phone in Tony’s jacket began to ring loudly.

Bruce hung up the phone and walked into the room. “I was just calling you.”

Steve held up a hand. Next to him, Tony set into motion, hurrying over to Ian and gently pulling him out of Natasha’s hands and against his chest.

“Give him to me, please.” Tony’s voice was nearly inaudible with fear. Ian was still crying, but his wails slowly turned into smaller hiccups, and Steve knew his son well enough to know those were cries of shock and not of actual hurt.

“What happened?” Steve repeated, more forcefully now.

“James had a flashback,” Natasha explained. “Ian was never in danger. Not for a second. I promise.” She glanced at Tony. “Please don’t freak out.”

Despite the fact that Natasha had meant those words to soothe Tony, Steve knew the second they had left her mouth that Tony would, in fact, freak out right now.

“He slapped you, obviously,” Tony sputtered, cradling the baby’s head protectively. “If Ian was—”

“Ian was down on the floor, playing with his plushie,” Natasha said, standing up and pointing towards one of the many soft nursery rugs. “James punched me and Ian started crying when I cried out in surprise, that’s all. James wasn’t even close to him.”

Steve could practically see as panic began to take a stranglehold on Tony’s throat, and he knew he did his best not to break down.

“Don’t know what triggered me.” Bucky’s voice was soft and frightened, and almost so quiet that even Steve couldn’t hear him. “I was just warming up a bottle for Ian and someone in that stupid movie said something and I…” He shook his head, pressing his eyes closed.

Steve sat down beside Bucky and firmly pulled his hands away from his face. “Bucky.” His voice made a point of staying very controlled. “Not. Your. Fault. We’ve been over this. It happened before, it will probably happen again. You’re in safe hands, we have it under control.”

When Bucky lifted his head to speak, Steve saw the marks on his neck, a good few dozen scratch marks from longer fingernails.

“That bad, huh,” Steve murmured absently.

“I thought I was over this,” Bucky said, looking chagrined.

Steve could sympathize. He’d really thought Bucky was out of the woods, too, that it was finally over and that he’d regained control over his mind.

Tony was still busy carefully tilting Ian around until he’d ensured he truly wasn’t hurt. Then, he looked up at Bucky. “When was your last flashback?”

In a quiet voice, Bucky said: “Nine months ago.”

Natasha stood up, arms folded. She looked at Tony as if she was preparing for a fierce argument. “He was back to himself in under a minute.”

Tony glanced up and sighed. “Come on, I’m not angry, quit looking at me like I’ll throw him out. I know you can keep Ian safe even if he loses it, but…” He looked at Bucky, his expression a mixture of solemnity and regret. “The risk is too high. We gotta ask Happy to babysit for a while. I can’t… I can’t have you around him.”

Bucky didn’t hesitate. “I understand.”

Steve swallowed. He knew Tony had a point, and he wouldn’t argue with him on this. He looked at Bucky for a long moment, before he stood up. Then, he reached out a hand and pulled him up. “You alright?” Steve asked.

“Yeah…” Bucky said. “I’m sorry for putting him in danger.”

“You heard Nat: You didn’t.”

Bucky smiled that small, self-deprecating smile of his, but didn’t say anything further.

“Tony and I will check your implants again tomorrow,” Bruce offered. “It’s… Maybe they’re still sending off signals, but there’s gotta be a way to turn them off for good.”

Tony nodded, and tried for a smile. “We’ll find a way.”

Bucky nodded, but he didn’t look too convinced. “Thanks.”

 

* * *

 

Steve lifted Ian from the bathtub and held him as Tony wrapped a towel around his small body. He carried him into their bedroom and laid him on their bed, drying him thoroughly.

Steve stood in the doorway, watching the tender care Tony gave their son. “It wasn’t his fault,” he said softly.

Tony looked up at him, frowned. “I _know_ that. I was there when we worked on his implants, twenty-four seven, remember? Why are you all assuming that I’m mad at him?”

Steve rubbed his forehead. “It never involved Ian before.”

“Are you asking me if seeing my son like that—crying and afraid—was a second from giving me a giant heart-attack? Yes. Did it make me want to punch Bucky in the face for a minute? Sure. But I never blamed him for it, it’s not his— _what_?”

A smile had taken hold of Steve’s face and he shook his head with a soft expression. “You called him Bucky. That’s a first.”

Tony frowned adorably. “I did?” he asked, then huffed dismissively. “Ugh. That’s your fault. It’s Bucky-here, Bucky-there all day, of course it caught up on me. Doesn’t mean anything.”

The smile didn’t fade, but Steve only nodded. Didn’t matter if Tony acknowledged it, but the two had gotten along far better than they did a year ago. Calling them friends was likely pushing it a little, but they did share jokes, and had a mutual obsession with Mario Kart and Frappuccino coffee, so it wasn’t that far off either.

They were growing on each other, and it made Steve’s heart swell with warmth.

“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” Steve said and pointedly ignored the death-glare Tony shot him.

He sat down beside Tony on the bed, and together, they powdered and diapered Ian’s bottom with practiced movements, then zipped him up into clean sleepers. With his tummy full and his body clean, dry, and warm, it didn’t take long for him to finally fall asleep on his parent’s bed. They stretched out on either side of him, facing each other.

“He looks more like you every day,” Tony whispered after a few moments of comfortable silence. He didn’t sound reproachful; instead he regarded Ian’s sleeping face with pure adoration. A smirk appeared on his lips. “He’ll have your jaw, for sure.”

“Maybe,” Steve conceded. “But whenever he’s smiling, he’s all you.” He reached out and traced a laughter line next to Tony’s mouth. “It’s a little crooked, and it lights up his whole face. ‘s beautiful. Like you.”

Tony tried to keep his face in check, but his features visibly softened. “Charmer.”

“Yeah, not really. He’ll have _that_ from you, too, I hope.”

“He’ll manage even if he doesn’t. You and your awkward stammering got me in the sack without much of a problem, too, didn’t it.”

Steve raised a brow. “You’re recalling our get-together as ‘without much of a problem’?”

“Those one or two disagreements can clearly be overlooked.”

Steve rolled his eyes, and in that moment, he realized, they were both trying to stave off the inevitable moment of putting Ian to bed in his own room. At times like this, he wanted his son no farther away than the reach of his hand.

Tony, as usual, seemed to read his thoughts and said, his voice very soft, “Can we keep him in here with us tonight?”

Steve smiled at him. “Yes. That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

The night’s events began to take their toll, leaving them physically and emotionally wrung out. Steve forced himself to get up and move the cradle next to their bed, then scooped up the baby without waking him. He tucked Ian snugly beneath his blanket, then leaned over and kissed him, taking in his fresh baby scent with his eyes shut tight.

_I never want to be apart from you._

He undressed and crawled into bed next to Tony. There was a moment when he remembered that they’d meant to catch up on the drastically neglected physical part of their relationship, and while just thinking on it brought a tingling feeling to his lower regions, it felt secondary now.

“W’never got to finish what we started earlier,” Tony slurred after a moment, as if reading Steve’s mind once again.

“‘s alright,” he whispered back.

“Gonna suck y’off in the morning,” Tony mumbled sleepily. “You don’ get a say in it.” As if to emphasize his words, he clumsily reached for Steve’s crotch and squeezed it once.

Steve snorted, and then, when he couldn’t help himself, laughed out loud. “If you _must…_ ” he said, and hugged Tony close. “I’ll accept my fate.”

 

* * *

 

The next morning started on an early note, and even hours later, when it was already close to noon, Steve’s thoughts kept drifting back to Tony’s rather _spectacular_ wake-up call.

Sex with Tony still was breathtakingly, toe-curlingly, mind-blowingly perfect. They were completely in synch with each other, and after years of being together, they had memorized each and every one of their buttons and how exactly to press—or not to press them.

So yes, Steve was a bit ashamed that, when he walked into the workshop, and saw Tony bent over some small machine standing on top of a waist-high pedestal, his first thought was very much centered on their sex-life.

Immediately, images of Tony’s lips tightly closed around his cock rose to the surface and— _dammit_ , Tony really had polluted his mind. A mind he could read all too well. The next thing Steve knew, Tony was grinning wildly and wagging his brows.

“Pleasant thoughts?” he asked, and didn’t lean up from his pose, instead wiggled his ass a bit.

“Pleasant memories,” Steve confirmed with a smile and walked closer. DUM-E was rolling over to him, whirring happily as Steve petted his main strut.

Tony returned the smile as he let Steve pull him into a hug. “Looking for seconds?” he asked, grinning as he pulled them flush together. “Ian’s upstairs with Veronica. I’m game if you are.”

Not for the first time, Steve thought that their new nanny was a godsend, and he was about to say yes, and bend Tony right over his work desk, when he remembered why exactly he had come down here. “Can’t,” he murmured and didn’t bother to hide his regret. “Meeting up with Fury in DC. I cancelled our last meeting, can’t exactly say no again. And we _should_ find out what he thinks about Ross before we take any action.”

Within a beat, a shadow fell over Tony’s face, and if Steve’s hands on his waist wouldn’t have been as firm as they were, he probably would’ve pulled away.

“What is it?” Steve asked.

“You’re planning to take action against Ross before meeting up with him _once_ , I just… I think you’re missing a few steps there.”

 _Missing a few steps?_ Steve’s brows furrowed. Tony made it sound as if Ross wasn’t already up and about, constantly looking for affiliates to support his campaign. As Secretary of State, he was very busy raising counter-arguments on Bucky’s impending acquittal. He didn’t argue on Bucky’s mind-control, which—strangely enough—only made it worse, but instead he tried to make it seem as if the Avengers were an uncontrollable force in itself, doing as much harm as they did good.

That he got backed up by the UN didn’t exactly help.

“I’m just trying to get Bucky out of the picture before it gets worse. It’s not right that he’s making an example of him.”

“Ross doesn’t have a personal problem with Bucky, it’s bigger than that,” Tony said, his voice quiet and reserved and Steve found himself sighing as he, eventually, did step back.

“Fine. But he’s punishing him in order to create a precedent, that’s not making it any more justified.”

“True.”

Steve frowned and looked back up at Tony. A simple agreement was… unexpected.

“Talk to Nick,” Tony added. He forced a horribly fake smile to his face and cupped Steve’s cheek. “I get that you want to defend Bucky.” He paused, rolling his eyes when he realized that yes, calling him _Bucky_ was a thing now. Steve smirked. “Shut it, whatever—Bucky does need our support, and I have done everything in my power to have him free of charge, you _know_ that. Ross is using his case to make a statement, that’s true. And sure, it’s not exactly the noble way to do it, but this has been in the works even before Bucky, Steve, and we can’t ignore it just because the situation doesn’t feel right.”

“I’m not _ignoring_ it,” Steve said firmly. “I have a pretty good idea where this is going. That’s why I need to make sure Fury’s on our side. SHIELD might not be what it once was, but I’m sure he can pull some strings in the background.”

“Good,” Tony agreed. He leaned up on his toes and pressed a quick kiss against Steve’s lips. When he pulled back, a deep frown was suddenly very prominent on his face. “I didn’t know you had an appointment today. I have to be in Massachusetts in about three hours.” He sighed. “We gotta ask Veronica to stay a bit longer. I’ll try to be home before Ian’s bedtime…”

Steve blinked, then remembered. “Oh right, your presentation.” He glanced behind Tony. “So it’s finished?”

“Yeah,” Tony said. He fiddled with his pant’s back pocket and Steve raised a brow when he pulled out a pair of sunglasses. “The glasses use a chip that’s connected with the user’s hippocampus,” Tony explained and walked around the pedestal. “That way, it’s able to track memories, and produce them onto an external infrastructure.”

It took a moment for Tony’s words to make sense. “It can _project_ a memory?” Steve asked, shaking his head.

“Yeah,” Tony confirmed, as if it was nothing, then pressed a button on the glasses. He walked into the middle of the room, and a second later, there was a… couch, and a table, and a piano. Silhouettes turned to life, a whole room appeared next, the style slightly outdated but everything seemed to be high quality and… weirdly familiar.

“Through the altered projection, people will be able to revisit an altered version of their past experience,” Tony explained. “It’ll allow them to overcome whatever traumas they have. At least… that’s what I hope will happen.”

Steve looked around. He’d been here once, in that room, he realized. That was Stark Mansion, wasn’t it? Tony had taken him there, a few weeks after their engagement. He’d wanted him to see the place where he’d grown up, and they’d spent hours upon hours looking at photographs, most of them with Jarvis and Tony, or Peggy and Tony, only rarely stumbling upon a picture where Howard—

 _Howard_. Steve’s eyes almost bogged out as Howard walked straight towards him. His hair was gray, his face wrinkled, only his eyes were exactly as Steve remembered them. Brown, and brilliant and so similar to his son’s that it was startling.

“What—” Steve stuttered. He took a good few steps back until he could look at the whole scene. Tony was currently standing right behind what Steve assumed were holographic versions of his parents. And, Steve realized, there was a younger version of Tony lying on the couch, as well.

 _Wake up, dear. Say goodbye to your father,_ the holographic version of Maria Stark said.

 _Who’s the homeless person on the couch?_ Howard asked Maria with an exasperated glance towards the teenager’s form.

 _This is why I love coming home for Christmas,_ younger Tony said. _Right before you leave town._

Steve just… stared. It was startling to see those two versions of the man he loved standing right next to each other. They were so different and yet painfully similar. He walked around the piano, looking down at the teenager with large eyes.

Somehow he had always assumed that Tony as a teenager had been carefree… ready to party the night away, always a joke at hand. That he’d been all smiles and manic energy, but this… this Tony seemed far more troubled than his husband did. Far more introverted, far more sad.

 _Where’re you going?_ he heard Tony ask, bringing Steve out of his reverie.

 _You father’s flying us to the Bahamas for a little get away,_ Maria reminded Tony softly. Something in her tone seemed off, Steve thought, like she was trying a little too hard to sound joyful.

 _We might have to make a quick stop,_ Howard added.

 _At the Pentagon, right?_ Tony asked with a biting tone. _Don’t worry. You’re going to love the holiday menu at the commissure._

 _You know, they say sarcasm is a metric for potential,_ Howard said, and Steve stared at him disbelievingly, at his old friend, and it felt a lot like looking at a stranger. How he couldn’t see the hurt and loneliness in Tony’s expression was beyond Steve.

 _If that’s true,_ Howard added, and Steve closed his eyes briefly, _you’ll be a great man some day._ With one last look towards Tony, Howard made to leave. _I’ll get the bags._

There was a moment of quiet, and when Steve opened his eyes again, he followed Maria Stark’s movements. How worried and urgent she suddenly looked as she leaned down to Tony. Steve really wished he could be consoling him, as Maria whispering in his ear: _He does miss you when you are not here. And frankly, you’re going to miss us. Because this is the last time we’re all going to be together. You know what’s about to happen._

She paused, expecting the younger Tony to say something, which he didn’t.

 _Say something_ , Maria urged. _If you don’t you’ll regret it._

It clearly was a struggle, and Steve knew in his heart that this wasn’t how it had played out in reality—even before Tony opened his mouth. The change from his previous annoyed and slightly resigned expression to the more amicable one he was sporting now… it seemed off. _I love you, Dad_ , the young Tony called, and behind him, Steve saw Tony, _his_ Tony, grimacing as if embarrassed. _And I know you did the best you could._

With that, the scene froze, and Steve couldn’t stop staring at the younger Tony’s thoughtful expression.

“Too personal?” his Tony asked, while Steve leaned closer to the holograph, looking down into Tony’s beautiful, yet very young features.

“No, it’s…” Steve shook his head as if to clear it. Some part of him desperately wanted to reach out and hug that past version of Tony, tell him that he wouldn’t be alone forever, that _this_ was his future, Steve and Ian and his team, and that he’d be happy and have a family and be very loved.

“Don’t get teary eyed on me,” Tony said quietly and Steve looked up and blinked. He realized his eyes had in fact gone a little misty. “It’s in the past,” Tony added and walked right through the holograph, making it vanish.

“I wish you could’ve said them goodbye,” Steve said. “And that Howard would’ve been a better father for you.”

Tony shrugged a little stiffly. He pulled the glasses from his nose and put them on the table next to him. “Wasn’t meant to be. I kept… I kept struggling with the way things were left between us, but today I think they knew how I felt anyway. Mom did. And dad, I mean… Howard was an ass and we didn’t get along too well, but… he was my father and I was his son, so I’d like to think he knows I loved him anyways.”

Steve moved forward, pulling Tony into a hug.

“If all of the students react that way things will get very awkward very fast,” Tony mumbled against his shoulder, rousing a small chuckle from Steve.

“They’ll be busy being awed,” Steve replied, his voice dulled as he muttered the words into Tony’s suit jacket. “This is amazing, Tony. Can’t even imagine how many people this will help. To think you can finally get some sort of closure on things that haunted you your whole life… It’s wonderful.”

There was a beat of silence. “Thank you,” Tony whispered and kissed him shortly. He walked by the place where the holographic piano had been just moments ago, looking down on it.

“She used to teach me Christmas Carols for years, you know,” he mused. “Wouldn’t teach me anything else till I had those perfected. Said I would most likely play the piano at Christmas my whole life, even when I had already lost interest in it on other occasions, so I’d better know what I did with the Carols.”

“I never heard you play,” Steve said, feeling a bit bad that he’d never asked. He’d seen old photographs of Maria and little Tony sitting at the piano together, but it had never once crossed his mind that Tony might still be able to play.

“I’m not all that good,” Tony said and chuckled when Steve pulled him near, turning him around in his arms. “I’m _not_.”

“False modesty doesn’t suit you,” Steve said, grinning.

“It’s not false modesty when it’s true.”

“It’s true till I have counterevidence,” Steve shot back. “Play for me sometime?”

“Sometime, yes,” Tony agreed softly, and leaned in to kiss Steve’s lips once more. When they broke apart, he twirled the sunglasses in his hand, looking down at it. “I thought I’d call it Binarily Augmented Retro Framing.”

Steve let out a startled laugh.

“What?” Tony asked, looking a bit startled himself.

“You realize that’s B.A.R.F. in short, right?”

Tony paused. Blinked.

“It—oh _fuck_ , it _is_. I already mailed the dean.”

“You’ll come up with something else later. It’s… it’s amazing, sweetheart, it really is.” The following kiss lingered and that Steve’s hand travelled down and landed on the curve of Tony’s ass was in no way accidental.

“How many minutes can you be late before Fury will rip me a new one?” Tony asked, and stepped closer, making Steve’s breath hitch in return.

The correct answer was ‘zero’, but Steve felt his reservations crumble. “How about I quickly return your favor this morning and I’ll try to be there on time?”

“Are you actually asking me if I’d turn down a blowjob?” Tony asked, his expression amused. That was, until the door of the workshop opened and fast steps neared them.

It was Natasha, and right behind her, Bucky. The second Steve laid eyes on their faces, he knew it was serious.

“We’ve got sightings of Rumlow,” Natasha announced without preamble and both Steve and Tony dropped their hands from each other.

“Where?”

“Lagos,” Natasha replied. “We don’t know yet if he’s hiding or planning something.”

“Either option isn’t any good,” Steve concluded.

Tony sighed. “I’ll cancel my presentation.”

“No. You go to MIT. You’ve worked hard for this. My meeting with Fury can wait, I’ll go. And I’ll take—” Steve frowned, looked back to Natasha. “Is Clint back yet?”

“No, still at home,” Natasha replied. “Thor’s still in Asgard, no word from him. I alerted Bruce, Sam, Vision, Wanda and Pietro.”

“If we want to stay low-key, we should probably not take Vision with us.”

“Or the Hulk,” Bucky supplied.

“Or the Hulk,” Steve agreed, then sighed. “Sorry you can’t come with us.”

Bucky shrugged like it didn’t bother him all that much, which, as they all knew, was a lie. “I’ll have eyes on you, won’t I?” He glanced at Tony.

“Sure,” Tony agreed. “You’re linked to all cams, including Redwing’s.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Sam’s obsession with that thing is bordering on creepy.”

They all nodded gravely.

“You think Wanda and Pietro are ready?” Tony asked.

“We’ll find out soon enough,” Steve replied. Wanda especially still had trouble keeping her surroundings in mind, but she did need field experience so this was a good way as any to start. He swiped a comm piece from Tony’s desk and set it down on his left ear.

“Alright everyone. Here’s instructions: Sam and I will do recon, the rest of you go in undercover. Do not, I repeat, do not engage any of the locals unless absolutely imperative. Lagos might be full of hostile forces. Be on alert at all times, like we trained. Eyes and ears, everyone.”

He was met with three amused expressions.

“He’s cute when he goes all Captain-y,” Tony told the others.

“He’s always cute,” Natasha said.

Bucky groaned and rubbed a hand over his face.

“It’ll be nice having you with us for once,” Natasha added, looking at Steve.

“Just like old times,” he replied. Natasha was right, of course. He rarely went to mission’s with the team these days. Everything was changing, but it seemed to be for the better. For a while.

When everyone had left the workshop to gear up, it was just Tony and Steve. Steve had pulled out one of his uniforms from a sideboard next to Tony’s suits, and was just pulling the top over his bare chest.

“You’ll be careful, right?” Tony asked as he handed Steve his pants. “Promise me. I can’t raise that kid without you, I’m gonna spoil him rotten and he’ll become one of those horribly nosy kids everyone hates.”

“You wouldn’t,” Steve said, smiling. “But yeah, I will. I always do. We have to stop Rumlow from wreaking any more havoc. It’s the best lead we’ve had on Rumlow in six months, and he won’t stop. I figure I have the best chance of stopping him. I know how he operates.”

“I know. I’m not trying to convince you to stay. I know you have to go. Just want to make sure you’re coming back in one piece. The guy kind of hates you.”

“That goes both ways,” Steve said and leaned in for a last kiss. As he left for the elevators, Steve swiped his shield from where it was hanging on one of the workshop walls.

Finally, it was time to meet an old team-mate.


	2. Something Between Us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your comments! They really mean so much to me. So happy you're excited about this. <3
> 
> (P.S.: I was told to say that the chapter title doesn't have anything to do with "Something about us" by Daft Punk and Interstella 5555, I don't know the movie, but there. I said it ;-) It's just a title.)

 

**Steve**

 

“ _You_ ,” the man in front of Steve spat, confirming his suspicion that said man beneath that mask was indeed Rumlow. There was a white skull sluggishly painted on the black kevlar, and the eyes behind were full of wrath. “There you are, you son of a bitch. I’ve been waiting for this!”

Steve bounded to his feet before delivering a punch with his shield that sent the man flying over the street. Then, he twirled with a roundabout kick to dispatch the last remaining goon that had accompanied Rumlow to Lagos.

It was safe to say he wasn’t all that impressed.

His more primal senses told Steve to simply throw his shield into Rumlow throat right beneath that black helmet, but he knew he had to spare his life if he had the chance. A court would wait to bring Rumlow to justice.

The streets of Lagos were still busy around them, with people everywhere. Rumlow had, intentionally or not, chosen a time for his attack when people were just getting off work and some were just starting. It had taken over two hours of supervising the area before they’d realized what was about to happen. The rest of the team was scattered all over the city. Wanda and Pietro had done well, so far, with Pietro hunting down most of Rumlow’s goons on his own.

Now, there was only Rumlow and Steve, and a vial he couldn’t let him leave with.

The air smelled of thick smog, a motorcycle honked, yelling at them to get out of the way. The sidewalks were just as bad if not worse than the streets. People pushed and shoved as they hurried to their set out destination. There was so much movement that even a fight between two super-humans didn’t rouse the people to clear the area and look for safer grounds.

Normally, Steve would concentrate on his objective to arrest, but with so many civilians around them…

A grunt left Steve’s lips when Rumlow’s enhanced hydraulic-gauntlet collided with his chest. He was admittedly a bit shocked when he felt himself being propelled into the air next, his back connecting with a nearby car.

“This is for dropping a building on my face,” Rumlow spat as he raised his gauntlet, until a large retractable blade shot out. He tried to hit Steve with it, and Steve only just managed to turn aside, the blade smashing into the stonewall behind him instead.

When he’d ripped off the gauntlet from Rumlow’s hand, a second was already coming for him. Only then did Steve manage to kick Rumlow in the stomach, which had him flying across the ground.

Kneeling on the dirt, Rumlow slowly pulled off his mask. The skin beneath was singed terribly on one side, most of his hair missing. “I think I look pretty good, all things considered.”

Grimacing as Steve pushed himself forward, he was relieved to see Pietro sprinting towards Rumlow. He ducked as a fist swiped at him, landing a sharp kick to Rumlow’s ribs. Straightening once more, Pietro was about to hit the man again when Rumlow landed a powerful blow to his jaw, rendering him unconscious as he fell to the ground.

Damn it.

“Pietro!” Gasping for breath, Wanda protectively took stance in front of her brother. Steve had no idea where she had come from, but he could also vaguely hear Sam in the distance, looming above.

“Who’s your buyer?” Steve asked as Rumlow got back on his feet.

Instead of answering his question, a mean, spiteful grin took hold of Rumlow’s battered face.

“You know, Rogers, your little pal’s going down with us. ‘Bucky’, was it? He seems to be quite the celebrity these days. I met him once, you know that? He remembered you, got all weepy about it. Cried, wailed, till they put his brain back in the blender.” He paused dramatically. “It’s hilarious to think that he’s going to be pardoned, and that _you_ are the one trying the most to set him free. It’s gonna be the best gift you ever made to HYDRA, it’ll make you our leading supporter.”

Anger flared within Steve—and, with it, strength. He struck out with his shield, and the left side connected. Because Rumlow had already been in an unbalanced position, the force of the blow knocked him over. He stumbled backward against a car, and tumbled over it onto the ground.

Before he could fully grasp the meaning of Rumlow’s words, Rumlow was back on his feet. There was blood at the corner of his mouth, and his features were twisted with gleeful rage.

“He wanted to die so many times, because he knew something you didn’t: When you gotta go, you gotta go, Rogers…”

It came from the front, a leap forward with one leg extended. His metal-shod foot caught Steve in the throat and sent him crashing to the floor. He rolled away a second before Rumlow’s fist struck, and it came down next to Steve with a force that made the ground rattle.

“And you’re coming with me.”

He grabbed Steve’s left arm and twisted it behind his back, spinning him up and around so that he faced Rumlow. Once in that ironclad grip, even Steve had a hard time escaping it, and in the second it took him to take stance, Rumlow had opened up his chestplate, revealing a—

“Oh my…” Steve breathed, regarding the bomb strapped to Rumlow’s vest.

It all happened too fast. Rumlow didn’t wait to give Steve a last piece of mind. He activated the bomb and Steve watched with pure horror as it exploded, taking Rumlow with it. The man holding him all but evaporated and there was heat seeping into Steve’s uniform. It burned before it touched him, and he had a nanosecond to think of Ian and of Tony and then—

Everything stopped. It just stopped and Steve realized the explosion was contained in some sort of bubble. He stared over his shoulder and saw Wanda shaking with the strain of keeping the fire under control.

In that moment, Steve thanked Wanda and her quick thinking, thanked her for his life, but on the next beat, he watched the bulb veering off course and into the building next to them. The shock wave was massive and merciless, destroying many floors, making the windows break and shatter as a fiery death took hold of their surroundings.

Light was all around him—blazing white, hot, and cruel. Nothing else. Nothing at all for what seemed like an eternity. Then, the world appeared again in a blinding whirl of color and sound, and Steve was thrown on the ground so hard that it knocked the breath from his body.

For a moment, he could only lie there, gasping. There was a thin stream of blood dribbling down his forehead, and his lungs burned as if his ribs were bearing down on them. Somewhat dazed by the suddenness of it all, Steve pushed himself up into a sitting position. He rolled his head to the side, staring up at the sky. A deep peach—the sun creeping towards the horizon with a sliver of bright red.

Then he heard the screams around them and pressed his eyes closed.

_What had they done?_

 

* * *

 

Steve paced the length of the Quinjet restlessly. It seemed that if he didn’t stop moving even for a moment, then it would all have been a dream. A nightmare maybe. But a dream nonetheless.

The others sat motionless on the floor, staring off into space as if still in shock. Wanda had buried herself in Pietro’s arms, not showing her face for the entirety of the flight. The only one who looked remotely calm was Sam, who piloted the Quinjet. He kept throwing questioning glances at Steve, but for once, he didn’t have any consoling words.

He still felt almost dizzy with shock. His mind feverishly recalled the moment when the building blew up, the agonized screams, the way the explosion had smelled… the closeness of it all.

The deaths. _So many deaths._

All of it was so real. His heart ached terribly, and he didn’t know what to do to ease the hurt.

Walking into the facility felt surreal. After witnessing those horrors, they now stepped out of the Quinjet and everything seemed as if nothing had happened. The walls were the same, the furniture was the same, it smelled the same, felt the same, and when Steve heard his team talking in the distance, his eyes watered.

What had they _done_?

The television in the living room was running. The late night news were on and Steve didn’t need to hear a lot to know what they were saying about them. ‘Mass murderers’, ‘terrorists’—and those were just the most striking words. He remembered that Captain America-graffiti in Sokovia, with the word _Fašista_ beneath, and even back then, he had known that this might just be the beginning.

He really needed to keep himself together.

“What legal authority does an enhanced individual like Wanda Maximoff have to operate in Nigeria?” the news anchor asked, before the stream switched to live pictures of Lagos.

Next to him, Wanda set into motion, rushing in the direction of the elevator. She even shrugged off Pietro’s hand as she went. Her legs were so wobbly she staggered to the side even before she had fully straightened her back, but she managed not to fall.

“Wanda,” Vision called, his tone deeply worried. He had stepped into the foyer that led out of the living room but immediately stopped in his tracks when she waved him off. Vision’s eyes longingly followed her until she walked around the next corner.

The guy was so in love with her, Steve really doubted that she hadn’t noticed yet.

A few seconds later, Tony and Bruce walked in as well. Tony’s expression was anxious. He cradled a sleeping Ian in his arms and he looked around as if expecting to see a ghost. When they landed on Steve, however, they changed to relief.

“Nat!”

Bucky vaulted over the back of the sofa, his voice hoarse and thick, so soft that Steve couldn’t be sure if he had actually spoken. He rushed over, pulled Natasha in his arms and then—something he didn’t usually do—kissed her in front of all of them.

“Not you, too,” Sam mumbled, as he walked past them.

“Couldn’t see what was happening,” Bucky whispered after a moment. He blindly flicked Sam off before brushing his thumb tenderly over Natasha’s cheeks where a light cut was already healing.

Natasha forced a smile to her lips. “Maybe that was for the better.”

“What happened?” Bruce asked. “The news—”

“Can wait,” Tony interrupted. “Anyone needs medical?”

And Steve tried with everything in him not to look at Tony—he didn’t want to look. But on their own volition, his eyes rose, traveling up the slim body until they finally rested on Tony’s face.

His face. It was a face full of understanding and acceptance, the brown eyes naked… and so very familiar.

“No,” Steve said, trying to keep his voice firm and strong. “No one got injured. Just a few scrapes and burns.”

Tony’s eyes were piercing as he studied him, and whatever he saw there, it set him in motion. “Come,” he said simply, and reached for one of Steve’s hands. He didn’t pull, only tugged gently, with Ian still cradled against his side, and Steve followed them down the corridors.

“I’m fine,” Steve told Tony, but he didn’t get any reaction. Tony just walked on, not saying anything, and Steve was glad for it. The silence was something he needed. Ever since the explosion, the world has been bright and harsh and deafening, a fact not aided by the pictures still present in his mind. As soon as they stepped into their room, Tony let go of Steve. He walked into the baby room and cautiously put Ian’s sleeping form into his crib.

“Ef, keep an eye on him,” Tony ordered to the room in general, as he entwined his hand with Steve’s once more.

“Of course, Sir,” FRIDAY replied dutifully.

“Tony…” Steve started, as he realized that Tony was leading him in the direction of the bathroom. The idea of showering, of becoming clean, ridding himself of all the ash and dirt felt… wrong. How could he go back to normal just like this? There was so much to do—they would have to call in a press conference, monitor the humanitarian assistance, and he needed to make sure his teammates were alright, he needed—

“Staying like this won’t undo what happened,” Tony told him with an intense look, but he did pause at the threshold. Steve swallowed, then nodded and followed Tony into the room.

He had forgotten how bright the bathroom in the facility was. They hadn’t been here often in those last weeks. Ever since Ian was born, the two of them had stepped down from Avengers business mostly, only joining the team for meeting or more urgent missions. And that meant they more often than not slept in the Tower.

Here, the lighting bounced off the clean surfaces, the white tiles, and it made Steve squint. The blinding glare of it took him back to those moments when he’d been sure he’d die in that explosion. Before many had to die so he wouldn’t.

Dazed, Steve stood in the center of the room. He had no idea what to do, and he only looked over his shoulder when he heard steps. “I should check on Wanda,” he heard himself say.

“Yes, you should,” Tony agreed from somewhere behind Steve. “ _After_ you stop looking a second away from a giant meltdown. You won’t do her any good like this.”

Steve heaved a shaking breath. “I’m not having a meltdown, I just… I don’t…” Words failed him, then, and he stared ahead, not seeing much of anything. “I’m fine.”

Tony sighed and put a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “You and I… we don’t have that kind of relationship. The kind where we say things just to make each other feel better. We’re honest, even if it hurts. And you’re not okay.”

Steve opened his mouth and shut it again a moment later. Tony was right. He wasn’t okay. “Did you call the Maria Stark Founda—”

“Yes,” Tony said. “Everything’s cared for.”

Tony positioned himself at Steve’s back and fumbled first with the hooks on his uniform top and then with the laces of his gauntlets.

“These things really are a pain in the butt,” Tony said with false cheer. “Next thing on my to-do list, I swear.”

Steve looked over his shoulder, his face blank. It made Tony’s smile falter; it made his eyes cloud. He bit his lower lip. “Don’t feel guilty because you live.”

“I should’ve grabbed that bomb,” he said. “I’m the leader. I should’ve dealt with it. He talked about Bucky, said we were doing HYDRA a favor and I just… He got to me, and I slipped. People died, and it’s on me.”

Tony stilled, then resumed his work. It was a little bit of a struggle for him to get his fingers beneath the lacings; they were a bit smoldered, but eventually he got them all loosened enough to pull off the uniform easily.

“You wanna do this alone, or…”

“Stay,” Steve said simply and pushed his pants down, pulling them off with his boots. When he looked up, Tony was just turning on the shower faucet. Steve stared at the water that streamed down for a moment, mesmerized by the cloud of steam.

Tony quickly undressed himself, and with a gentle tug, he ushered Steve into the shower stall.

At first, neither of them spoke. Tony seemed uneasy, and his gaze shifted from Steve’s face down to his hands. “You’re hurt.” His voice was low, almost casual, as he caressed the scraped knuckles.

Taking his cue, Steve shrugged his shoulders in an attempt at nonchalance. “Got into a fight.”

It was a lame joke, he knew, but it had Tony huff a breathless laugh, so at least it broke the tension a little. “Oh, really,” he answered dryly. “Looks like you lost.”

Steve quirked a fleeting smile. “You haven’t seen the other guy.”

“No, I haven’t,” Tony whispered, then cleared his throat. “People die. We try to prevent it, but in the grand scheme of things, we all know it’ll keep on happening.”

“I know,” Steve said, and he _did_. “Not everyone can be saved. We need to live with that, otherwise, one day, maybe nobody can be saved.” He looked down at his feet. “I don’t think Wanda was ready for this. I thought she was, but… can’t imagine what’s going through her head. She just wanted to help and then—”

Tony quickly sealed the space between them, seizing Steve’s wrists. “Hey, look at me,” he said thickly, raising Steve’s hands to his own face. Steve swallowed hard and obeyed, his gaze locking with Tony’s.

“There’s _nothing_ you could have done to prevent this. You went there because we knew Rumlow had been up to something. We traced him, we got proof, and we decided to hunt him down. If you hadn’t been there, God knows what he would have done.”

The memories were so vivid; Steve could feel the vibration under his feet and the crack of Wanda’s magic as it surged towards the building.

Rationally, he knew that to every battle, there were casualties. To save many, more often than not, a few had to die. It was horrific, it was brutal, but Steve had faced enough battles to know it was true. And he had accepted it and all the consequences that followed.

But this—this felt different.

Tony sighed. And Steve squeezed his eyes shut while Tony rubbed shower gel into his skin, and shampoo into his hair, cleaning him from what was still left of the mission.

More and more memories assaulted him: terrified faces, screams of agony. Beneath them, the ashes and the dirt of the battle vanished in the drain. And when Steve looked at Tony, he could see it in his eyes: He would offer no sweet words to make it better, and Steve was glad for it. It just proved what Tony had already promised—that no matter what, Steve would have his honesty.

“As I said, people die. But there are things you need to hear. Things you won’t like, things I kept to myself and that I need to say now.” A pause. “We need to learn to control our forces,” Tony continued with a firm voice. “What happened with Wanda—to some extent it’s the same as what happened with Bruce in Wakanda, the same with me and Ultron. There seem to be new people with superpowers every day. That spider-kid, Ant-Man, Phil’s girl. We can’t—” He swallowed thickly. “We can’t go on like this. People are afraid of what we can do. They lost so much already. I know we do what we do to prevent worse, but those ‘possibilities’ don’t mean a thing to people when they’re confronted with the very real losses.”

There was a meaning ringing behind those words that Steve couldn’t get his head around. “I don’t see the alternative,” he said on a frown.

Tony smiled, as he reached around Steve to turn the water off—and it was a sad little thing. “I know.”

“Sir,” FRIDAY called. “The little master seems a bit fretful. The lullabies don’t seem to help.”

Tony sighed again, and Steve knew he really wanted to talk about this, knew there was more he hadn’t said yet, but it never seemed to be the right time.

“Let’s talk later, yeah?” he asked, and pulled Tony close for a quick kiss.

Tony nodded. “Later, sure.”

“Thank you… for this.”

Tony smiled. “Always.” With a soft caress at Steve’s neck, he opened the door of the shower stall and stepped out.

 

* * *

 

While they got ready for bed, the television was still running. With people’s smartphones and security cameras and even satellites, the news station had covered the scene from every angle, showing over and over again how Rumlow had killed himself, and how Wanda had thrown the explosion right into the building where relief aid workers had been trying to do their job.

It was devastating.

“How was your talk with Wanda?” Tony asked as he walked out of the bathroom. He was naked, save only for his boxer briefs. His eyes immediately snapped to the giant television hanging on the wall across from their bed. Ian was already fast asleep in his room, and the rest of the team had settled down as well.

“I don’t think I got to her,” Steve replied. “She’s still in shock.”

“Reasonable,” Tony said.

“Vision’s with her now.”

A huff. Tony sat down on his side of the bed, his eyes still trained on the television. “He’s so gone for her.”

“So gone,” Steve agreed. He got up from the bed, stripping out of his clothes. Dropping them haphazardly, he padded naked about the room, looking first for his sleeping shorts and then for a few small tea lights they sometimes left burning at night.

When Steve turned around, however, his eyes stuck on Tony’s face. He didn’t just look troubled at what he was seeing on the news channel, he had that closed-off expression he often sported when he was trying to shield his own emotions. It was a similar expression to the one Tony had worn when he’d been poisoned with the Palladium. The one when he was trying to keep something to himself. His eyes were carefully blank, but behind that—hopelessness and grief, coupled with a final, glomming ounce of determination to find a solution to face the unbeatable odds.

“What happened?” Steve asked and the sudden question had Tony startle.

“What?”

“What happened with you,” Steve repeated. “You look… I don’t know. Is it about Lagos?”

Tony looked down, bit his lower lip, and took a deep breath. Which meant he was gathering his emotions, ready to stamp them down as far as they would go. “Let’s talk about it later,” he said, confirming Steve’s thoughts.

“Did something else happen? I never asked you how your presentation went.”

And that was a dead-on, if the little twitch in Tony’s face was any indication.

“Don’t do that,” Steve interjected before Tony could say more. “Just because I messed up today, you don’t have to keep your troubles to yourself. We’ve been over that: You’re _not_ less important than me. So I’m asking again: What’s wrong?”

Tony sighed, heavy and loud, showing Steve exactly what he thought of his needling. He did reach behind himself, however, and produced his tablet out of nowhere. He flipped through whatever apps he had running and eventually threw the tablet on the mattress so Steve could reach for it.

There was the picture of a young Afro-American boy, one of those photographs that were likely printed in a yearbook.

“Who is that?” Steve asked.

“Charles Spencer,” Tony answered. “His mother walked up to me after the presentation. Showed me this.” He paused. Smiled. “Charlie’s a great kid. Computer engineering degree. 3.6 GPA. Had a floor level gig. An Intel plan for the fall.”

Steve glanced at the happy young man once more before he lowered the tablet. He had a sickening feeling he already knew where this was going.

“But first, he wanted to put a few miles on his soul,” Tony went on. “Before he’d park it behind a desk. See the world, maybe be of service. Charlie didn’t go to Vegas, he didn’t go to Paris or Amsterdam. No, he decided to spend his summer building sustainable housing for the poor. Guess where.”

“Sokovia,” Steve filled in, his voice soft.

“Sokovia,” Tony agreed. “He wanted to make a difference, I suppose. I mean, we won’t know because we dropped a building on him while we were kicking ass.”

Steve sighed, walking over to his own nightstand and putting the tablet down there. “What do you want me to say?”

“That you _get_ it,” Tony said, not quite angered, but Steve could hear the sharp undertone in his voice—the frustration. “Sokovia was on me, Steve. Lagos on Wanda. There’s no need to beat around the bush. And you _have_ to see that we need to be put in check.”

Steve stared at Tony, taken aback by those strong words. They’d been tiptoeing around the issue for months, long before Ian’s birth. They had meetings with new institutions like the ATCU, meeting Phil and his agents, debating on how they were going to handle new task forces like the Watchdogs that had decided to keep the enhanced humans in check, no matter the costs.

Tony had never quite spoken against the parties trying to invoke restrictions on the Avengers, but he had never uttered an affirmative word either. Now, it seemed, he’d made up his mind.

“Steve,” Tony said softly. “If we can’t accept limitations, we’re _boundaryless_ , we’re no better than the bad guys.”

He frowned. “Limitations? I’m not sure what you mean—we can’t put our own failures on other people’s shoulders. If we fail, it’s something we have to face as a team.”

Tony’s calm expression began to fall. There was open sorrow in his gaze now that had Steve’s insides tremble with confusion. Were their opinions really that different and he just hadn’t noticed?

“Sometimes your principles really make you blind to other people’s needs,” Tony whispered.

“I _am_ thinking of their need. I’m saying we need to figure out a way to keep ourselves in check.”

Tony smiled helplessly, throwing both hands into the air. “That is like asking a political system to keep itself from becoming corrupt. There’s a reason why every federate nation has a countercheck-system.”

“I would agree with you if there weren’t things well beyond human imagination threatening the world. You and I, we both have seen what is out there. We have seen what kinds of evils are waiting to dig their claws into Earth. And as long as we are our only defense system, we _need_ to be able to do our work as we see fit.”

They held each other’s gazes for long moments, before Tony broke the connection. He pulled both knees towards his chest, and settled his head down on them.

With the electric light out, only the dim illumination provided by the candles and the arc reactor bathed Tony in soft tones.

“Tony,” Steve prompted, sitting down on his side of the bed. He reached for Tony’s shoulder, rubbing the skin there. A hand settled on top of his, and Tony pulled gently to press a kiss into Steve’s palm.

“I don’t wanna fight tonight,” Tony told him quietly. “I’m exhausted, and you must be, too.”

Steve nodded and shifted closer, draping an arm around Tony’s shoulder and drawing him near. Tony raised his head, and met Steve’s lips with a slow, gentle kiss.

“We might not agree on this,” Steve said against Tony’s mouth. He traced a finger along his lips. “We don’t always. But we’ll find a way.”

Tony looked up at him, and nodded. “You’re right, just… we gotta talk this through, eventually.”

Steve nodded, and quirked a smile. “Raincheck?”

An all too relieved breath. “God, yes,” Tony said and chuckled when Steve pressed him down and settled his whole body on top of him. “And what’s that now?”

“You really gotta ask?” Steve said as he leaned down to kiss Tony’s throat. Somewhere deep down in his mind, he knew they shouldn’t be doing this—avoiding this conversation. They’d been doing it for a while, always interrupting themselves when things got heady—and he was very well aware that that wasn’t exactly a healthy communication system, but…

It was _Tony_. They had so little time with each other, just the two of them. And Steve wanted to see him happy, wanted his smiles, his breathy little laughs, his manic energy.

He wanted him just the way he was right now.

His hands traveled from Steve’s chest to his arms, grazing lightly downward until, finally, Tony laced his fingers with Steve’s.

“You want to—”

“Yes,” Tony said. He glanced sideways. “You think he’s asleep?”

“I…” Steve frowned. “I think so?”

“FRIDAY?”

“Out like a light, sir.”

“To be determined,” Tony quipped, then looked back up at Steve. “Our son’s the worst cockblock of all times,” he informed him.

Steve shook his head and grinned, leaning in. They kissed deeply, and when he pulled back again, Tony’s cheeks were flushed, his chest rising and falling rapidly. One of his hands sneaked inside Steve’s sleeping shorts and was curved around his erection a moment later, idly stroking from base to tip. Then, Tony turned around, reaching for the nightstand, opening the lube as he turned himself sideways.

“Foreplay. Not a thing anymore, huh?” Steve asked, chuckling.

Tony hesitated. “I… do you want to—”

“Nah,” Steve waved him off, and slid a little further down the bed to join Tony.

Tony glanced at him over his shoulders, grinning. “Well, then. Bed me.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “You’re ridiculous,” he said, but it didn’t stop him from letting a hand slide between Tony’s thighs, grabbing his boxers and pulling them just over his ass. His hips nestled behind him. He shifted, one leg curling over Tony’s thighs, and after taking the lube in his hands he pushed a finger into him, pumping steadily. “Gonna do this slow,” he whispered into Tony’s ear, “take you hard.”

Steve’s name was a low breath while Tony tried to get closer.

“Don’t move, lemme do the work.” Sliding his fingers out of his hole eventually, Steve angled Tony backward a bit, letting his hand take the weight of his thigh. His cock slipped between Tony’s legs, bumping into the space from behind, and he could feel the clenching and contracting of his leg muscles, shudders rippling through him.

Impatiently, Tony grabbed Steve’s ass, fingers digging into his skin. Steve nuzzled the back of Tony’s neck, breathing heavily through his nose, knowing the effect that had on his nerves.

“Steve…”

“I know.” He cupped Tony’s cheek, angling his head so he could kiss him. “You ready for me?” he asked.

“Yeah.” Tony nipped at Steve’s lips briefly, before he dropped his head back on the sheets. “No teasing.”

“No teasing.” Lifting him up with his palms firmly under his ass, Steve eased Tony back onto him. He was tight and slick and silky… Tony’s muscles clenched around him, and his faint grunting mewls drove Steve wild. Tony rocked back and forth, bumping against Steve’s body, visibly aching for more friction. Steve’s left hand snaked around them, finding Tony’s cock with unerring precision.

“C’mon, squeeze me.” He flicked Tony’s erection, grinding into him as if to emphasize his words.

They fell into the right rhythm soon, one that wasn’t quite so frenzied. Tony moaned and clung to him; bearing down, he flexed his muscles. “I gotta…”

His body twitched, arching into Steve’s hand. Steve eased him forward until Tony lay flatly on his chest. Steve pressed his body gently onto the bunched pillows. “Alright.”

He thrust into Tony, holding him close with one hand. Steve built up speed slowly, keeping a steady, fast pace. Tony was close, Steve could tell. He flexed around him, riding out the storm he’d initiated, gasping for air as a gut-wrenching climax started sweeping through him. Steve pressed his mouth against Tony’s shoulder, holding him still as he thrust deep and deeper still—his body almost pinning Tony to the bed now.

Tony’s head had dropped down in perfect submission, and his entire body shook, triggering Steve’s own orgasm. He curled over his back, completely spent. Tony’s arms gave out and he slumped down, shaking with the aftershocks.

Steve kissed his shoulders, his arms holding him tight, their breathing settled into something resembling normalcy. He realized his hands were shaking when he tried to turn Tony around, gathering him close and holding him in the aftermath. Tony burrowed into his arms, his hand reaching for him, drawing it over his side.

Steve tried to speak, opening his mouth more than once to say something, but no words formed in his head. Being with Tony like this was as easy as breathing, everything else, though, had suddenly become strangely complicated. So instead he released the breath he was holding, shifting himself until Tony was lying beside him.

Once more he tried to find the right words, but when Tony looked up, his eyes captured him in a storm of uncertainty. There was something between them, something Steve couldn’t quite name yet, but it frightened him to the bones.

And when Tony looked at him in question, all Steve could do was stare back. 


	3. First Rupture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick thought beforehand: I know Civil War is about taking sides, but I want you to know that I didn't. Take sides. I'm seeing just as much reason in Tony's standpoint as in Steve's. That's kinda the beauty and tragedy of it. In the movie, it's basically just a very shitty situation and in my opinion, they didn't have the time or opportunity to settle this issue peacefully. And while there will be scenes and dialogues in this fic that blame certain people for certain things, I want to emphasize: This is NOT my opinion, I'm NOT trying to diss any characters, I LOVE THEM BOTH EQUALLY. These things are said because there will be strong emotions blinding the characters who say them. They might very well realize later that they were wrong to think and say such things. So this is not me blaming anyone for anything, or saying that 'Tony's right' or 'Steve's right'. It'd be wonderful if you'd just bear with me till the end :-)
> 
> And now: enjoy!
> 
> PS: My wonderful beta-reader [morphia](http://archiveofourown.org/users/morphia/pseuds/morphia) read the whole thing in one go now and gave me a few great pointers, and generally improved it a whole lot, so I think it's actually finished (Yay!). I will post every Sunday and maybe 1-2 times in between
> 
> PPS: There's minor spoilers for Agents of Shield season 3 in here

 

**Tony**

 

In the months following the battle with Ultron, long before Ian was born, the government had requested a meeting with Tony. Back then, he had convinced them that Ultron had been an individual mistake, a horrible one-time thing, and that, in the wake of what had happened, there had been no way to save Sokovia from destruction—that they had done everything in their powers to keep casualties at a minimum. And thus, a fragile truce was negotiated.

The fact he’d also agreed to handle reconstruction duties for the government as well as paying for a major part of it had probably weighed heavily in the Avengers’ favor.

So in the days after Lagos, the emergency plan they’d formed in case of another incident rolled into high gear the instant Tony, Maria and Pepper had started making phone calls. They had split into groups and had set up round the clock attendance, trying to keep the truce with the UN intact.

All in all, everything worked as they had planned should the Avengers be involved in yet another international emergency. And yet, Tony often felt like he was in an old and clichéd western movie. The good guys were surrounded by bad guys, and the bad guys were in turn surrounded by angered Indians.

He wondered often if going to the Sheriff and simply asking for shackles would be easier than trying to make amends.

Deep inside, Tony had always known that paying for reconstruction and smiling at a few cameras wouldn’t be enough this time around. He had known that something had been in the works, had known that, come the time, they would have to face the consequences of their actions. For a long while now, it was just a matter of when and in what form those consequences would be laid bare for them.

Hence the _Sokovia Accords_.

It had been two days ago, when Tony had—not so legally—gotten notice of the document. Ever since, he had researched every law paragraph, every draft, every e-mail he could locate in an effort to understand what was going to happen.

It wasn’t exactly advanced mathematics. The UN wanted to control what they couldn’t so far, and by now, they only waited for the right timing to make the Accords public.

And Tony still hadn’t told Steve what was coming for them.

He just didn’t know how, not with Lagos still weighing heavily on everyone. And not when he knew in his heart that Steve would never agree to this. Their past conversations had made that very clear.

For two days, it felt as though he was living two lives at once. With Ian, everything was going well, much better than he’d expected. The little nugget had simply wormed his way into their lives and nowadays, Tony couldn’t even remember how he had spend his days without his son at his side. However, Tony couldn’t help thinking on what lay ahead, and even though he thought about it twenty-four-seven, he didn’t know what to do about it.

Yet.

He tried to hold on to a guarded optimism, a hope flaring inside him that allowed him to sink further into the belief that maybe the United Nations wouldn’t even consider the Accords. Or that he’d discover a way to circumvent the oncoming rupture between him and Steve with some sort of compromise.

In any case, he’d have to tell Steve, and today was just as good a time as any.

With a soft sigh, Tony finished towel drying his son’s hair and wrapped a towel around him, then scooped him up and carried him over to the bedroom.

“All clean and fresh, aren’t we, pumpkin?”

“Da-da,” Ian giggled as Tony blew a raspberry into his tummy before raising him into the air and doing a full-turn that had his son laughing in delight.

“That’s right, poodles.”

“Your usage of petnames has reached a disturbing new level,” Rhodey said from where he was reclining on the smaller couch next to their bed. He had been staying in the facility for the better part of the last year, and Tony _tried_ to contain his joy that Rhodey might have decided to become a full-out Avenger, but he probably wasn’t doing a very good job.

This was what he’d always wanted but never dared to ask for. Having his brother at his side, on the battlefield, but also just like this, at home, like in old times.

“Don’t be jealous, snookum,” Tony called and when he walked by, he pressed a kiss on Rhodey’s head. “You’ll always be my first.”

He could basically hear Rhodey roll his eyes and grinned at him extra-brightly when he sat down on the other couch. He bounced Ian on his knees, laughing with him as he giggled even more.

“He’s gotten big,” Rhodey observed.

“I know. He can have his papa’s height as long as he keeps my hair,” Tony said fondly as he nuzzled the brown wisps of hair on Ian’s head.

“So where are you and Steve going tonight?” Rhodey asked.

If Tony had anything at all to say about it, they wouldn’t be going anywhere. After a solid week of the government systematically driving him crazy about Lagos, the last thing he wanted to do on a Saturday evening was get dressed up and go to a goddamn banquet for the CIA.

“Business thing,” he said, and made to stand up again. He walked over to their dressing room and dug around in Ian’s drawer for a clean nightgown. He turned around holding up two different pairs of cartoon themed rompers—each one a gift from Clint—displaying them for his little one’s choice. “So buddy, Captain America or… I don’t even know what this one is.”

“Spider-Man,” Rhodey informed him.

Tony grinned. “Of course you’d know. You’re such a fangirl. At least, it’s not that Ant-Guy. All right, Ian, which will you have?”

He looked down at his baby boy, who might or might not have made a vague motion with his left arm that might or might not be pointing towards the Spider-Man rompers.

Sitting down on the end of their bed, he helped Ian into his panties, then dropped the rest over his head and buttoned it up in the back. “There now,” he said, patting the boy’s little bottom, “all set for bed.”

Ian gurgled unhappily.

“What, not yet?” Tony asked. “You have plenty of play left in you before bedtime, don’t you?” He lowered his voice. “How about a quick flip before I go?”

As if knowing what Tony had offered, Ian immediately held both his hands and lifted them in the air. Tony took him in his arms, and hopped him upwards the slightest of bit, which roused a happy laugh out of Ian’s mouth.

After one more hop, he deposited Ian on the bed in a giggling heap, then jumped on after him and pushed his rompers to the side, nuzzling his bare tummy, blowing loud raspberries on it.

“You’re ridiculous,” Rhodey said, but Tony could hear his amusement.

“He really is.”

When Tony looked up, he saw Steve standing at the door. He already wore the tux that still had Tony’s knees go a little weak. He didn’t look pleased, though, despite of the small smile he cast Tony.

“Ah, you’re just as enthusiastic as I am, huh?” Tony guessed, and chuckled when Steve nodded gravely.

“Thanks for babysitting, James,” Steve told Rhodey and clapped a hand on his shoulder as he walked in.

“Well then,” Tony announced as he, reluctantly, handed Ian over to Rhodey, “let’s get this over with fast.”

Maybe after the gala, they could find some time for themselves, and then Tony would break the news to Steve, and hope they could find a solution together.

 

* * *

 

“Pretty nice set up,” Steve said as they made their way through the hallway. The entrance hall was gigantic, with four huge chandelier and a live orchestra playing Sinatra in the background. Tony instantly felt the stares of all those gathered in the giant ballroom. All eyes were on them and it only had him grip Steve’s hand a little tighter.

They walked towards the bar, saying a few hellos here and there, and Tony spotted Thaddeus Ross and a few senators at a high table, whispering to each other as they passed them.

“Yeah, didn’t know the CIA was rolling in this kind of money,” Tony eventually answered. He grabbed a glass of champagne and a soda from a circulating waitress and handed the champagne to Steve. “Did I tell you how ravishing you look tonight?” he asked before Steve could do something like tell him how he would’ve been okay with a soda as well. He really wasn’t in the mood to be reminded of his alcohol abstinence. He just wanted this evening to be as normal and uneventful as possible.

Steve gave him a small smile, and nipped from his glass. “You didn’t, now that I think about it. I’m very hurt. Nowadays you’ve only got eyes for that new guy.”

“Well, he’s quite the eye-candy.”

Steve chuckled. He looked around for a moment, and Tony followed his gaze, knowing exactly what Steve saw. Everyone was watching them.

“Dance with me?” Steve whispered in his ear.

Tony huffed. It was such a Steve-thing to do. He gave a shit about people’s opinion when it came to them, and Tony loved him fiercely for it. Tipping the glass, he finished off the soda and put it back down on the bar counter. Steve pressed a small kiss on his hand’s knuckles, then led him to the dance-floor.

It seemed Tony’s life had become a walking contradiction. Only a few years ago, he’d been a playboy and he’d known nothing in the world could ever come of it. He’d only showed up at these kinds of events to drink himself stupid before banging whoever came home with him. Then he’d met Steve, who had reshaped his world, giving him new hope. And now he was that kind of guy who had butterflies in his stomach while he was slow-dancing on some gala with his husband.

“Love your tux, too, by the way,” Steve murmured, his fingers sliding over Tony’s shoulder to caress the black fabric. A smile twitched at his mouth. “Almost as much as I like you out of it.”

“Scandalous,” Tony shot back, grinning.

They settled themselves in position, facing each other, hands held already. For a moment, Tony was unsure whether to settle his other hand on Steve’s shoulder or on his waist, but Steve made that decision for him by placing his own hand on Tony’s waist.

“No, it’s not because you’re shorter,” Steve answered Tony’s unvoiced joke, his smile stretching into a smirk. “Just want to lead for once in our relationship.”

Tony laughed, softly. “Fine with me.” He rested his hand on Steve’s shoulder, squeezing him once, while Steve tightened his grip on Tony’s waist and started leading.

“You remember our wedding dance?” Steve asked. “Looking back, it should have been terribly awkward. Never had the time to practice. I think I had about two lessons.”

“And even that didn’t help you,” Tony teased. “Maybe it _was_ terribly awkward, I wouldn’t remember. All I remember is you.”

Steve’s eyes dropped somewhat. “Only me?”

“Only you,” Tony confirmed softly.

On the next beat, Steve tugged at Tony’s arm to spin him, then pulled him close again.

“Impressive,” Tony said.

“I had a good teacher.”

Steve matched Tony’s stride to his tempo, and Tony moved his hand from Steve’s shoulder to his waist, tapping his fingers in time with the beat. He closed his eyes, let the music move them and reveled in the closeness.

God, this was awfully nice.

After a few back and forths, Tony wrapped both arms back around Steve’s neck, and Steve didn’t hesitate before placing his own on Tony’s hips. Steve smiled—a small, surprisingly timid quirk of his lips—as he drew Tony close to his body. He held him gently and relaxed into the dance, swaying them together in time to the melodic rhythm.

The scent of his cologne teased Tony’s nose as their cheeks brushed, and he allowed himself a moment of pure and utter happiness. He inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with the scent he’d identified with Steve for as long as he’d known him.

The band started playing the song they’d danced to at their wedding reception— _I’m Yours_ —and Tony huffed a surprised laugh when Steve hummed and snuggled him even closer.

“We’re disgusting,” Tony mumbled.

“We’re in love,” Steve answered, the _horrible_ sap, and kissed him chastely. “I love you. A bit more every day. I don’t tell you enough.”

“You don’t have to. I know. Just like you’ll always know that I love you, too.”

Eventually, they stopped dancing and slowed down to a steady sway, to a tuneless song.

Tony smiled and leaned in to whisper in Steve’s ear. “You sure you don’t want to get out of here? Take off, just the two of us, for a dirty weekend somewhere?”

Steve rolled his eyes and moved away. “Nice try, but we gotta at least say hello properly, stay a couple of hours. I could be persuaded to leave early, though.”

“Sounds good,” he said, catching Steve around the waist with one arm. “If we go early… there’s a nice little hotel on the way back to the facility. Know the owner, they’re very discreet.”

The corner of Steve’s mouth twitched. “So you’ll take me to one of your former hook-up establishments? Sneak out in the night when I don’t notice?”

“Exactly. It’s gonna be quick and dirty.”

“Promises, promises,” Steve whispered and leaned in for yet another kiss.

“Can’t even keep it in your pants when half of the US government is watching your every move, can you?” someone said.

Tony turned around with a frown. At first, he didn’t recognize the man in front of him. The features were unfamiliar, but the eye patch certainly wasn’t. And Tony’s mouth quirked upwards when he met Nick Fury’s gaze that looked so disapproving it _had_ to be him. He had a hat on his bald head, and tinted glasses on his nose. With one of those photostatic nano masks on, he looked too different for others to recognize him as the former SHIELD director, but the voice, and he whole stature was still very much the same.

Tony smiled at him, settling a hand on Fury’s shoulder as he led him a little ways off the dance-floor. Steve followed them.

“Admit it, you have a dirty kink about catching Steve and me in compromising situations.”

“Last time I did, I officially died an hour later, so I wouldn’t call it a hobby,” Fury said, grimacing at the memory. He glanced at Steve. “How’s your boy?”

“Doing great,” Steve said, every bit the proud father.

“He’s getting more like Steve every day.”

“Good for him,” Fury said, pointedly.

Tony huffed. “Thanks a lot.”

“What are you doing here?” Steve asked.

“Well, you’re a man hard to get a hold of, Captain,” Fury answered. “My sources told me your team is about to become a full-fledged international incident. Care to explain just what the hell’s goin’ on?”

Tony felt something inside him churn almost painfully. This wasn’t the right time, nor the right setting for this conversation. “If by sources you mean _Maria,_ then you know that she likes to overdramatize from time to time.”

Fury shoved a hand in his jacket’s pocket and handed Tony a piece of paper.

“How old-school of you,” Tony mumbled, but unfolded the paper anyway. It was a newspaper article. On top, there was a headline: _Is it time for Superheroes to be registered?_

“What is that?” Steve asked, his brows furrowed as he took the paper from Tony’s hand. “That’s… that’s from today.”

Tony sighed. “Steve, look…”

“Seems they want to make federal employees out of you,” Fury talked right over him, his tone neutral. “How’s that feeling?”

“It’s not about being anyone’s employees. It’s about making superheroes more legitimate,” Tony snapped. “And publicly accountable.”

Steve ignored their argument and only stared down at Tony, and his gaze was suddenly all urgency. “This is all just speculation, right?”

Tony winced. “I—”

“What this is, Captain, is the end of the way we do business,” Fury said. “And Tony knows that.”

Tony pointed a finger at Fury, shoving it right into the middle of his tie. “Would you prefer people lose faith in superheroes all together? You were the one who said we were needed. We have to win back people’s respect.”

Fury remained quiet, and Tony could see it in his face—the damned bastard _knew_ Tony was right. And yet, with SHIELD’s collapse, and HYDRA infiltrating them for decades, his metaphorical backbone had taken a serious hit. He was too afraid of being controlled to see what was right in front of him. “I have a feeling when all this is over, my Christmas card list will be down to a handful,” Fury said, instead of giving an actual answer.

“Tony, what is going on?” Steve demanded now, his voice a hushed sharpness.

“It’s… it’s only hypothetical.”

“ _What_ is hypothetical?”

“I—”

“You’re in Washington next week, aren’t you?” Fury prompted, and Tony really— _really—_ wanted to punch him in his foreign face. “I bet they’ll want to know where you stand by then. Coulson has been meeting with Rosalind Price. She was head of the ATCU, so I suggest you’ll call him, rather sooner than later. Things are moving fast, gentlemen.”

Steve opened his mouth to say something, but in that moment, there were steps right behind them, and someone raised his voice over the muffled sounds of people talking.

“Tony Stark?”

Tony turned around—just in time for a stream of spittle to hit his face.

“You filthy piece of crap!” a man yelled and the words echoed all across the ballroom. He was staring down at Tony with furious eyes, pointing a finger in his direction. He was even shorter than Tony, in his mid-forties, and Steve was about to restrain him, but Tony held up a hand. “Let him,” Tony murmured, as he wiped his face.

“Sir,” Steve said instead. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

The man shrugged off Steve’s hand, which he had positioned on his shoulder. “Me? He’s the one you should be dragging away!” he snarled at Steve angrily before staring Tony down once more. “ _You’re_ financing the Avengers! _You’re_ telling all these people that they can live outside the law as long as they’re wearing tights! _You’re_ responsible for what happened!”

“ _Sir_ ,” Steve warned with a firm voice. “I understand you are upset, but—”

“Cops have to train and carry badges,” the man continued, and _God_ , his voice was breaking now, his eyes getting all watery. “But that’s too boring for Tony Stark! Nah, Joe Billionaire here says all you need are some superpowers and a badass attitude, and you can have a place in his private super-gang.”

Tony opened his mouth to defend their case, to smooth over the situation as he was used to do—but then something happened. Something that hadn’t happened in a whole long while: His mind went utterly, completely blank.

 _He’s right,_ he realized.

Around them, a crowd had gathered, snapping photos of the three of them. Only now Tony realized that Fury had, at some point, brought some distance between them. Fair enough, he thought. His disguise would likely not stand a chance once a photo of him was published online.

Steve was dragging Tony away, steering him through the crowd.

“My daughter was in Lagos,” the man shouted, openly crying now. “You fund this sickness, Stark! With your dirty billions!”

“Hap,” Steve said next to Tony. Probably speaking into his phone, Tony guessed. Everything around him was a buzz. “Let’s go. We’ll meet you out front.”

“My daughter’s blood—it’s on your hands!” the man yelled behind them. “Now, now and forever!”

 

* * *

 

It was early next morning when Tony sat in the living room in his and Steve’s facility apartment, cradling Ian in his arms as he gave him the bottle. He nursed a headache of epic proportions and since a whole long while, he really longed for a drink.

Last night had been distracious on so many levels. The man’s speech that was trending on every media channel, but mostly the fact that Fury had taken away his chance to break the news to Steve himself.

They hadn’t argued much afterwards, Steve had been too busy ensuring that Tony was alright after what the man had thrown at him. It didn’t mean they wouldn’t have to talk about it soon.

The aftermath of the gala had brought forth a series of interview requests that he’d declined, talk show invites he’d outright ignored, and about a thousand memes of Tony getting spat in the face.

At least you had to give the folks kudos for creativity.

From their bedroom, Tony could hear Steve’s soft breathing. For once, he was sleeping in, surely a result of him ranting about the media fallout well into the night. When Tony looked back over his shoulder, he saw Steve’s sleeping figure reaching out towards Tony’s space, instinctively searching for him.

“Your papa’s so needy,” Tony whispered with a smile as he looked down at Ian. Their beautiful boy, all soft skin, tousled hair and innocent eyes, as he nursed his milk. He didn’t have a worry in the world, no fears, no superstitions, not a single mean thought in his head.

What would he think once he’d hear someone call his fathers mass murderers?

After Ian had finished his bottle and burped loudly over Tony’s shoulder, Tony took him down to the common floor. As soon as he stepped out of the elevator, however, the phone in his pocket vibrated with a message. Picking up the device with one hand, he realized it was just an automatic notification of someone adding an entry to his calendar.

_4.30 P.M. Meeting with Thaddeus Ross. Location: Avengers Facility._

_Shit_ , Tony thought. There it was. He’d feared this meeting for weeks, and he’d hoped to delay it as long as possible. He wasn’t a big fan of Ross to begin with, but with his crucible against Barnes, he surely now made the Top Three politicians Tony would prefer to never talk to again.

Rationally speaking, of course, he had figured Ross would take the disaster at the CIA gala as a final motivation to get his agenda with the Avengers going. And now, he’d pay them a visit tomorrow afternoon, taking four of his senator-goons with him.

And Tony had a feeling he knew exactly what Ross would want to talk about.

“The stupid Secretary is only sending four?” Tony asked Ian as he walked further into the room. “I think I’m insulted.”

“Maybe he thinks you’re an easy mark,” a voice said.

Tony startled a little as he looked up and spotted Vision standing in front of the ceiling-high windows. For a moment, he thought about berating him of not making his presence known, but then again… JARVIS had always simply been there, too.

He and Vision, they had grown close in the last couple of months. While there were distinct differences between Vision and JARVIS, it sure did feel like speaking with his old friend whenever Vision was around. True to his words, Jarvis was a part of Vision—just more.

And a lot more red.

“I’m not _easy_ ,” Tony told Vision with an eye-roll, “I’m… you’re smirking. Stop it, it’s creepy. You’re not supposed to smirk, Mr. Cool-Guy.”

Vision chuckled. He sat down on the couch next to Tony, and his gaze zoomed in on Ian. Ian’s big blue eyes were wide as they stared up at the strange red figure, and he giggled when Vision got so close that he could reach for his nose.

“Uh-oh!” Ian exclaimed, when the gem on Vision’s forehead suddenly glommed brightly. “Ta-ta?”

“Tada,” Vision confirmed, smiling. “Like a magic trick, exactly. You’re a clever guy.”

“Da-da-da,” Ian said, as he glanced over to Tony, as if to prove Vision’s words.

“Exactly,” Tony agreed as he raised Ian back to his chest. “And don’t you forget it.” He pressed a kiss on Ian’s nose, rejoicing in the laughter that followed.

Hearing his son laugh was the most amazing thing.

“So…” Tony prompted, glancing up at Vision, even while Ian pushed his hands down all over Tony’s face. “Secretary Ross is coming over.”

“I know,” Vision agreed, tapping his head. Sure, the lucky guy was still linked to all systems. Damn it, sometimes, he really missed Extremis. “And if you want my opinion, I think they’re sending four because they’re _not_ underestimating you.”

“Maybe…”

Vision’s look turned assessing, and Tony scrunched his face, the wheels turning furiously inside his head.

He’d secretly been glad that the scandal at the gala had stopped Steve from asking any more questions about registration, but now, he simply felt tired of keeping secrets. It was no use anyway, he wouldn’t find a solution all by himself. All he could do now, was to try to solve the problem with Steve by his side.

“I don’t like the way Ross is handling things,” Tony explained cautiously. “I really don’t. I have this… strong urge to punch him in the face most of the time, but—I can’t say he’s wrong. At least not on all levels.”

Vision nodded, as if he hadn’t expected anything else. “I agree. You know I do.”

Tony sighed, thinking about Steve. Still sleeping peacefully. Still blessedly unaware of what was to come. “I have to tell Steve, prepare him for this. I waited too long as it is.”

“That’s wise, likely.”

 _Likely_ , yes.

Likely, Tony had never been more afraid of anything in his life.

Looking up, Tony assessed Vision with wide eyes. “You’ll have my back, right?”

“Yes,” Vision confirmed, and rose to his feet. He put a hand on Tony’s shoulder, squeezing it for a moment. “I will.”

Tony nodded and took a deep breath. “Okay, then. Let’s get it over with.”

 

* * *

 

“Hey,” Tony prompted as he sat down across from Steve. It was half an hour later, and Ian was in the park with Veronica. Sam, Pietro and Natasha were sitting right next to Steve, looking infinitely tired as they munched on their breakfast cereals. The CIA gala hadn’t gone unnoticed by anyone.

When Steve merely grunted something unintelligible, his eyes firmly trained on today’s newspaper, Tony and Vision exchanged looks. “Babe?” Tony prompted.

“Mmhm?” he answered with a distracted hum, then rubbed his forehead. “Sorry. Did something happen?” Steve fixed him with an inquisitive look.

 _Something else,_ Steve didn’t say. The shock over what had happened yesterday was still plainly visible on his features.

“No,” Tony said. He put the tablet he’d brought with him down on the table, twirling it back and forth a bit. “Just… there will be a visitor this afternoon.”

Steve frowned. “Who?”

“Thaddeus Ross. He’ll want to talk with us…” He taped down on the tablet. “…about this.”

“What is that?” Steve took the tablet Tony’d offered, glancing at it quickly. His expression didn’t change much when his eyes scanned the lines. Only the telltale twitch in his jaw showed that he’d immediately grasped what exactly this was about. “Where’d you get this?” he asked quietly.

“I… stumbled over it.”

“You mean you hacked their servers,” Steve corrected.

“That’s one interpretation,” Tony said, forcing a quick smile to his lips. He got up again to pour himself a cup of coffee. “A few people in Washington were acting strangely whenever I talked to them. They kept rambling about how they didn’t want to talk about Bucky’s trial before some ‘papers’ were finished. So I got curious and went looking. That’s what Fury was talking about yesterday.”

Steve swiped his thumb over the screen, his expression unreadable. “Who commissioned this?” There was more than just mild worry in Steve’s tone.

“Apparently the government directly. Whole UN is involved.”

“Ah.” Steve rubbed a hand over his face, before handing the tablet over to Natasha. “How long did you know about this?”

Tony sighed. “Look, it wasn’t clear if this would ever become something we’d have to talk about. I had a feeling they were working on something for a while now, but I didn’t have any specifics. I found the document three days ago.”

Steve’s jaw twitched again and Tony could see the irritation in his eyes.. “You should’ve told me. I’m the team-leader.”

“Never said otherwise. I just… I was looking for a solution. I was _trying_ to find some sort of middle ground before showing it to you, I—”

At that, Steve stood up, his chair almost toppling to the ground. “So once again, you just told yourself you already knew what I’d say? I haven’t even made a statement yet!”

“I think we _do_ know your standpoint,” Natasha murmured, earning herself one of Steve’s rare glares.

“That’s not exactly fair.”

“You’ve been at court about twenty times during Bucky’s trial,” Tony reminded him gently. “And you’ve made it pretty clear how you feel about any form of preventative measures.”

Pietro and Sam had quietly listened to them, and now leaned over to Natasha to see the file they were talking about. “So what is this—they want to regulate us?” Pietro asked after a moment. “I don’t understand how that is supposed to work.”

Natasha’s expression remained impassive. “It might be more than that.”

Steve and Sam shared a look that spoke volumes. “That’s not the way to go, we’ll have to make them see that,” Steve concluded. “I have a feeling Fury will have our back.”

“Didn’t he say we should talk to Coulson?” Sam asked. “One of his agents was one of the new enhanced, right?”

Natasha nodded. “Inhumans, yes. They found a bunch of them.”

“Where does he stand with the ATCU?” Steve asked. “Do we know?”

Natasha pressed her lips together and shrugged. “I’m not sure. There have been some rumors that the ATCU got infiltrated by HYDRA as well, but I didn’t have a chance to talk to him so far.”

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose, took one more look at the tablet then walked towards the refrigerator. He fished out a bottle of water, then let the door slam close soundly, the noise reminiscent of a gunshot. Silence reigned, punctuated only by Tony’s knuckles cracking as he balled his right hand into a fist. He opened the bottle and took a sip.

“Out with it,” Steve prompted.

“We can’t simply undermine this. At least not right away.” He turned around and paused, his expression hardening. His voice held all the gravity he could muster. “We’ll have to let him make his point, _then_ discuss this. I’m not saying this document shouldn’t undergo a few changes, but it’s a draft, we can work on it. I know you wish you could put down your foot and the problem will simply go away, but it _won’t_.”

Steve frowned. He was about to say more, Tony could see it, when Natasha cleared her throat and brought them back to practicalities. “We really _should_ call Phil. He will want to be here for the meeting. If nothing else: He knows Ross, and I think his opinion might be important.”

Steve looked back to Tony, then turned around. “I’ll do it,” he said shortly, and left the room with quick, angry strides.

The silence that rang and dissolved around Tony in tinny circles felt as if it wanted to choke him.

Damn it all, he really should’ve told Steve as soon as he’d gotten notice of the Accords. It hadn’t been fair to keep this from him for so much as an hour, and yet… He guessed he’d been too afraid to take this step, because…

…because it felt a lot like the first domino stone of many had just fallen. And he had no idea if there was a way to keep them all from tumbling to the ground.

 

* * *

 

The elevator’s door in the hallway opened just seconds after FRIDAY had alerted them to Ross’ arrival. Tony briefly glanced over to Steve, who already sat at the conference table, before he flipped open his cell phone.

“Dead on time,” he said.

“Good,” Clint murmured, waving a hand in the direction of the door. He’d only arrived at the facility half an hour ago, still wearing jeans and a lumberjack shirt. “Please let’s get this show over with so I can go back home.”

“Glad you’re so interested in your team’s future,” Tony said with a scoff, and got a tiny ball of paper thrown at his forehead for his trouble. He pooled the moist thing off his skin, disgusted. “What are you, twelve?”

“Tantalizing twenty,” Clint said, grinning at him cheekily.

“Thaddeus,” Phil exclaimed. Everyone fell quiet as he walked up to their guest, shaking his hand with an easy-going smile.

“Hello, Phillip.”

The interaction looked pleasant enough, but there really was no need to guess where Phil’s loyalty lay. When he’d arrived at the facility a little bit after noon, flanked by a busty blonde and a feisty girl with shoulder-length brown hair, it had taken Tony all of five minutes to know that Phil wouldn’t even give his arguments the time of day.

It might have something to do with Phil still getting that awestruck fanboy-look whenever he talked to Steve, but Tony guessed he was also overprotective of the brown-haired Inhuman-girl.

The two seemed friendly enough, and the girl—Daisy—seemed to be clever, though it was clear that the topic was a very personal one to her. She gave Phil a long look when he’d asked them to wait outside for this.

Suddenly, Tony really wished Bruce could’ve joined the meeting, but then again… he understood why he wouldn’t meet Ross face to face. It was probably safer for the both of them. Bruce was still closely monitored after Wakanda, and Tony wouldn’t risk him getting in the crossfire.

Phil’s and Ross’ footsteps echoed across the marble floor before they sat down. Wanda moved away from her position at the window, sitting down next to Steve and watching the men warily. She looked better than she had in the last couple of weeks, Tony thought, though he could still spot the tension in her tiny shoulders.

He really wished he could make this easier for her, could sweep what had happened in Lagos under some giant carpet, but it wouldn’t do anyone good. Sokovia—each and every death—it was on him, and it was time they’d face the consequences of their actions.

Pietro joined her a moment later, and while his face was pointedly void of any emotions, Tony had a feeling he’d twist Ross balls without anyone even noticing if he so much as raised a word against his sister.

Despite their more than rocky start, Tony had come to like the guy. Even though he was ninety-nine percent sure he kept stealing the sesame bagels whenever Steve bought them some.

In any case, it wasn’t hard to notice how cold the reception of their guests was. No one smiled—even Rhodey, who was usually quick to show his respect to anyone of rank, was giving Ross wary glances.

Ross probably knew how very much unwelcome he was. And wasn’t that a great way to start a potentially life-changing debate.

“Why don’t you have a seat?” Tony said, trying to sound welcoming.

Ross reluctantly sat down, taking the seat opposite where Steve was sitting. The four senators were silent sentinels at his back.

“I suppose you’re wondering why I wanted to have this meeting at the facility,” Ross started.

“That’s one of the things I’m wondering about,” Steve agreed.

Ross smiled. “I wanted to talk to you about this in person. I’m reaching out to you.” He glanced sideways, and raised a brow. “But I’m not sure it’s appropriate for him to join us.” Though he tried for casual, his feelings for Bucky were clearly heard.

Bucky’s expression didn’t change. He sat on a chair a little ways off the table.

“James Barnes stays,” Steve said. Something in either his tone or his expression now seemed to give his emotions away and Ross flinched. “He’s officially a member of this team. So it’s his business just as much as it is ours.”

Ross clearly didn’t approve, but nodded anyway. “Fine,” he said and with a deep breath, he stood back up from his chair. One of his companions handed him a remote control, and Ross turned on the monitor behind him as he took stance in front of the team. “Gentlemen, the world owes the Avengers an unpayable debt,” he told them, and sounded honest enough. “You’ve fought for us. Protected us. Risked your lives. While a great many people see you as heroes. There are some… who would prefer the word ‘vigilantes’.”

“And what word would you use, Mr. Secretary?” Natasha asked with a pleasant smile.

“How about ‘Dangerous’? What would you call a group of US-based, enhanced individuals, who routinely ignore sovereign borders and inflict their will wherever they choose and who, frankly, seem unconcerned about what they leave behind them.”

He opened a video at the monitor. There were scenes from the Chitauri invasion running over the screen. Rubble from buildings falling on the ground, burying people beneath.

“New York,” Ross said. Tony sighed, and everything inside him itched to reach out for Steve and caress the tense line of his shoulder, but he knew he was still mad at him.

“Washington DC,” Ross went on and the feed switched to the moment when the Helicarriers in DC had fallen to the ground. And after that, a city rushed down to the earth. “Sokovia.” A building exploded, corpses lying on the ground. “Lagos.”

“Okay. That’s enough,” Steve interrupted him with a glance towards Wanda. Next to her, Pietro had fixed Ross with a death-glare.

Ross nodded, and turned the television off. He walked closer towards the table, putting the remote control down with a clicking sound.

“For the past four years, you operated with unlimited power and no supervision. That’s an arrangement the governments of the world can no longer tolerate.” Another one of the senators walked closer and put a large stack of papers down next to Steve. “But I think we have a solution. _The Sokovia Accords._ Approved by 117 countries. It states that the Avengers shall no longer be a private organization. Instead, they’ll operate under the supervision of a United Nations Panel, only when and if that Panel deems it necessary.”

Tony got a glimpse at the paper when Steve held it up in front of his face.

_Framework for the registration and deployment of enhanced individuals. Against unilateral deployment of the Avengers and similar teams of superhumans without government oversight._

Well. Those were all words Steve really wouldn’t like.

A part of him agreed with that assessment, but the other… the larger part… thought about Charles Spencer, and that guy’s daughter, and knew the alternative was something he couldn’t live with any longer.

“The Avengers were formed to make the world a safer place,” Steve told Ross, his voice grave. “I feel we’ve done that.”

“Tell me Captain, do you know where Thor is right now? Can you guarantee that James Barnes won’t have another lapse with those implants in his head? If I misplaced a couple of 30 mega tonne nukes, you can bet there’d be consequences.” There was a heavy pause as he glanced around. “Compromise. Reassurance. That’s how the world works. Believe me, this is the middle ground.”

He reached for the remote control and motioned for his companions that it was time to leave. “So, there are contingencies. Three days from now, the UN meets in Vienna to ratify the Accords.”

Steve finally turned around at that, staring at Tony with an intense expression. Tony pretended not to notice for a moment, but ultimately, his eyes were drawn up to Steve’s.

‘Did you know’, his eyes all but screamed, and Tony shook his head ever-so-lightly, before dropping his gaze on his hands once more.

He’d known the basics, of course, but then again, he wasn’t sure if it really made a difference.

This wouldn’t be pretty, Tony knew. But they’d been through worse, right?

“So, talk it over,” Ross told them.

“And if we come to a decision you don’t like?” Phil asked.

Steve obviously fought the smile Phil’s unconditional support engendered.

“Then you retire.”

Natasha and Tony shared a look, then after a moment of pointed and silent communication, Steve huffed out a loud breath.

“What will happen with James Barnes?” Natasha asked.

Despite the fact that he was the subject of the conversation, Bucky sat perfectly still in the corner of the room, glancing out of the window.

Ross’s stance tightened. “Well, we obviously can’t clear him, Miss Romanov. The hearings confirmed evidence for twenty-three murders in the last fifty years alone. And both Mr. Stark and Dr. Cho could not confirm that the implants are effectively deactivated. He is still a threat and he must be treated as such.”

So much contempt flooded his tone that nearly all of them flinched. Tony glanced up at Bucky and while the man fought to keep his expression neutral, Tony could see his jaw tensing. There had never been an official death toll before, and that really wasn’t something Tony’d wished for him to know.

Steve heaved a low breath. “He was brainwashed and cannot be held accountable. The jury confirmed that months ago.”

A muscle was ticking in Ross’s cheek. “And yet, the little chips in his head control his behavior. One wrong word, and he might go back to killing.” Ross spoke to Steve, but his eyes were focused on Phil, obviously believing him the more reasonable of the two.

“There’s a reason he’s only allowed to stay on Avengers ground so far,” Ross added. “It’s a safety measure for the people of New York. If it was my choice, he wouldn’t be living here, he’d be in a high-security psych clinic. And as long as either of you can’t swear an oath that he’s not dangerous anymore, it better stay that way.” He stared at Tony. “Or can you?”

Tony swallowed. He glanced at Bucky, whose expression was unreadable at best. Without looking at Steve, he shook his head. “No.”

“Thought so.”

“The how and why are the usual ways, Thaddeus,” Phil said.

“I think this country deserves more security, Phillip. It’s time even the superheroes are held accountable.”

“Like you were held accountable for what you did to the Hulk?” Pietro asked, his whole posture tense.

Ross stiffened at the mention of his past transgression. “Three days, gentlemen,” he said, ignoring Pietro completely. “Miss Romanov. Miss Maximoff.”

With that, they were gone, none of them sparing a backward glance.

Tony blew out a breath, shifting his hair away from his eyes as he let himself fall back in his chair. That had gone well.

 

* * *

 

Steve stared at Tony as though he was crazy.

It wasn’t exactly the first time.

“You’re serious about this? You agree with him?”

“Give me another option,” Tony snapped. He was so _sick_ of this, of Steve pretending this was something he couldn’t _possibly_ give the sliver of a thought. It was two hours after Ross’ departure, and they still hadn’t moved beyond arguments like ‘This won’t be happening’ and ‘We have to find a way to stop this’. There was no move for a compromise on Steve’s part, no signal that he’d let all of it sink in for a night and then see where they could go.

No, Steve was standing firm, and gradually, Tony began to realize that there was every chance he wouldn’t budge in the slightest.

Phil had left a little while ago, but he’d made his opinion perfectly clear. He was going to protect his agents, and since that involved at least one inhuman, he had already been wary about regulations from the beginning. Luckily for Tony, though, he couldn’t exactly make his opinion publicly known, since everyone believed that SHIELD no longer existed.

Sam and Rhodey still looked like they wanted to scratch each other’s eyes out over who had the most medals and whatnot, and Tony could barely ignore the headache forming behind his eyelids.

“I don’t think anyone of us would say we can go on like this,” he said, his voice calm.

“We won’t,” Steve confirmed. “But it isn’t something that can be repaired by putting a leash on us. The risk is always gonna be there, and we can’t have the government exploit it. You can’t tell me you truly believe they won’t try to use us for their own agendas. It’s a dangerous game, Tony.”

“We won’t _let_ them use us—but if this helps people sleep a little easier, then it’s worth considering!”

“So you just want to let them turn us into super-cops,” Clint said, frowning. He was still paging through the Accords, his expression becoming graver by the second.

“117 countries want to sign this,” Rhodey argued, and Tony wanted to lean over there and kiss his beautiful bald forehead. “And people are afraid.”

“Yes,” Steve said. “But this document just shift the blame.”

“Sorry, Steve, that… that is dangerously arrogant,” Rhodey replied. “This is the United Nations we’re talking about. It’s not the world security council, it’s not SHIELD, it’s not HYDRA.”

“No, but it’s run by people with agendas and agendas change. If we sign these, we surrender our right to choose. What if this panel sends us somewhere we don’t think we should go. What if it’s somewhere we need to go, and they don’t let us?”

Steve had a point with that, Tony thought as he closed his eyes briefly. It just didn’t change the fact that the Accords would happen no matter what, and they needed to find a way to keep doing their job.

It was then that Steve’s phone buzzed faintly, and with an irritated shake of the head, he reached down to look at it.

“If we don’t do this now,” Tony said, his voice gentle, “it’s going to be done to us later. That’s a fact. And it won’t be pretty.”

“You’re saying they will come for me,” Wanda concluded.

Vision shifted closer to her, which had Pietro roll his eyes. “We would protect you.”

“Maybe Tony is right,” Natasha said. “If we have one hand on the wheel, we can still steer.”

“I truly believe that this is our best shot,” Tony added, glancing at Steve for a reaction—for _something_. “Steve, goddamnit, could you _say_ something?”

But Steve only looked up at him—numb but not unmoved. And Tony knew by the way his mouth fell open, closed, opened again: Something was very wrong.

“Steve?”

The words arose behind Steve’s eyes. He saw him grasp them. Wrestle them down. It was a road much traveled. Tony knew every turn, every twist, every crack in Steve’s mind. Every tiny imperfection. Every stop. Every turning point. And right now, he was trying not to fall apart.

“Steve,” Bucky called, his tone soft, and Tony had a feeling he’d come to the same terrible conclusion.

This wasn’t about the Accords. Not anymore.

The words came slowly and with difficulty. “It’s Peggy,” Steve said, his voice almost inaudible. He didn’t say anything else, and _God_ , he didn’t have to. Instantaneously, Tony wanted to cradle him in his arms, to shelter him from the harshness of the world, and to remove the terrible look of sadness that was now darkening his features. On the next beat, Steve buried his face in both hands.

Tony had dreaded this day for months— _years_.

And oh, there it was.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A part of the gala dialogue was taken and slightly altered from 616 Civil War.


	4. Our Legacy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a short chap. I'll try to post the next one a bit sooner this time.

 

**Steve**

 

Steve stared at Peggy’s photograph and tried to think of all the different expressions he’d once seen on her beautiful face. The determination, the fury, the gentleness, the devotion, the red-lipped smiles. He wanted to find consolation in that, but it wasn’t easy.

Peggy’d been the first person he’d ever fallen in love with, and he remembered looking at her back then in Italy, and thinking, for the first time in his life, that she could be someone he’d want to spend the rest of his life with.

Involuntarily, his eyes dropped on the coffin, and a fierce numbness washed over him. Peggy had always been so strong, so larger-than-life, how could she be so small now to fit in there?

Inside the church, there was an unexpectedly large gathering from the former SHIELD representatives. Several world ambassadors had come as well, to show their honor to a woman that Steve knew they had respected, but he hadn’t expected such a large turnout.

He glanced over to where Sharon Carter was sitting. She wasn’t crying. Steve couldn’t see her face, but somehow, he knew she wasn’t someone to cry openly. He had talked to her a few times when he’d still lived in Washington. They had been introduced, but never went on a mission together. He’d only found out that she was Peggy’s great-niece when he’d already been back in New York. But of what Steve got to know of her she was a lovely woman who did her very best, and that was good enough for him.

He and Tony’d had a quiet moment with Sharon earlier that afternoon; there had been hugs and some almost-tears and horrendous jokes on Tony’s part because that’s what he does.

Now though, sitting in front of Peggy’s coffin, Steve’s hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Clamming and sweating, fidgeting and fumbling because he was just so darn unsettled. Because there was sad eyes and sniffling and grief everywhere and Steve had always had a habit of taking everything in around him and feeling it all tenfold.

Tony sat firmly to his right, their argument about the Accords momentarily forgotten. He’d had his arm wrapped securely around Steve’s waist, not suffocatingly so, just there. His touch was strong and immediately soothing. Fingertips skittered along Steve’s wrist to finally find Steve’s fingers, to loop his and Tony’s tightly together.

To his left, Sam, Bucky and Natasha sat, their expression thoughtful and just a little sad. Bucky’s arms, both the metal and the human one, were restrained with very large shackles.

It had taken a whole day of Tony debating with the US Ambassador of the United Nations to allow Bucky to travel with them to London. A whole day, and an agreement that Bucky would be under strict surveillance the whole time. Outside of the church three task forces were waiting to escort Bucky to the cemetery for Peggy’s burial, and bring him back to New York immediately after. Right behind them, there even sat a UN-assigned psychiatrist that Ross had demanded accompany Bucky at all times.

“Did I tell you that she once nicked a ten-thousand dollar whiskey from dad?” Tony leaned in to whisper, a little dumbly, and Steve almost laughed at the idea. Instead, though, he raised Tony’s knuckles briefly to his mouth. One kiss to the bump of his knuckles, and then to the bones of his fingers. He hoped it wasn’t too scandalous. With the way Tony inched closer, he figured it was probably not.

Steve breathed a probably too-large sigh of relief. Everything would be okay. He was absolutely not alone and everything would be fine.

Over at the podium, Sharon was speaking now. Her eyes were unmistakably sad but she stood tall and proud, just like Peggy.

“I asked her once how she managed to master diplomacy and espionage at a time when no one wanted to see a woman succeed at either,” Sharon said with a small smile. “And she said, ‘Compromise when you can. When you can’t, don’t. Even if everyone is telling you that something wrong is something right. Even if the whole world is telling you to move, it is your duty, to plant yourself like a tree, look them in they eye and say: No, you move’.”

The words resonated deep in Steve’s mind.

After Sharon had stepped down again, the clerk addressed the crowd: “There will be a book at the exit devoted to your remembrances and thoughts. Every post will be copied to Miss Carter’s surviving family. Thank you all for coming.”

Sharon stepped off the podium, walked to the plaque and gave a formal salute holding it for the traditional three seconds.

This was a memorial for _Peggy_. Steve had to remind himself more often than he cared to admit. It just seemed so surreal. It still felt as if he’d met Peggy only short of five years ago. She’d been so vibrant and full of life, so determined to make the future hers. And he’d missed it.

As they made their way to the graveyard a little while later, a merciless wind cut across the area. It drove the mourners into tight huddles in a futile attempt to avoid the worst of the weather. A blanket of dark clouds covered the sky, giving the impression that it was closer to sunset than it really was.

The crowd gathered, and Steve’s gaze swept over to Sam, who was looking somber. Tony stayed near him for comfort. Bucky, however, had decided to stay behind, watching the progression from afar with only Natasha at his side. Natasha, and about twenty UN soldiers trying not to disrupt the ceremony.

This was all laughably stupid. Why couldn’t they simply let Bucky grieve, give him a moment of peace for once, as well?

Eventually, Steve looked down at the tasteful plaque embedded inside the gravestone. It read simply, _In memoriam, Margaret Elizabeth Carter. April 9, 1921 - June 3, 2016_.

Sharon carried a single white flower and laid it on the freshly covered grave. “Goodbye Aunt Peggy,” she whispered and moved away.

Sam looked down at the plaque for a moment, and addressed Steve without turning his gaze from it. “A unique woman, huh?”

Steve smiled despite of himself. It was such a Sam thing to say. “Yeah.”

“She always made me eat my vegetables,” Tony observed. “I _hated_ it. She could talk me into anything. She’d say stuff like ‘I bet twenty of those won’t even fit in your tiny stomach’ … and I _knew_ exactly when she turned her reverse-psychology bullshit on me, but I couldn’t _not_ do it, you know?”

The thought of Peggy sitting down with a five-year-old and too smart for his own good Tony and knowing exactly how to handle him had Steve grin. “She had her ways,” he agreed and once again let his fingers entwine with Tony’s. Only then, he realized that Tony’s eyes had watered. His face was one vast well of grief as he shut them tight.

They were quiet for a long moment, and Steve was just about to say something, when Tony whispered hoarsely, “You’ll be missed, Pegs.”

When it was Steve’s turn, he glanced again at the gravestone, remembering his last sight of Peggy—calm and ready for what was to come after this life.

“You left a hell of a legacy, Peggy,” Steve murmured to the hovering spirit that he could almost feel in the air. “I hope you realize that.” He traced the smooth rounded edge of the stone with one finger. Such a small thing to mark someone so important. “And I hope, wherever you are, you’ll keep an eye on us. I have a feeling we need it.”

In moments like this, Steve felt it again. That a lot of people he had known and loved had gotten away from him too soon. Especially in cemeteries, Steve tended to have a few very dark thoughts. Surrounded by all those lonely graves he got just a little bit terrified of the idea of—well. Dying alone.

But then there was the warmth of a gentle and reassuring kiss at Steve’s temple, another against his forehead and a pair of the deepest, loveliest, most wonderfully familiar brown eyes looking ever-earnestly into his own, reading Steve like a book. As always.

“Come on, sweetheart.”

Steve let out a small sigh, nodded and turned away from Peggy’s gravestone.

Across the small path, Steve watched as the guests approached Sharon and paid their last respects. She shook each of their hands as they murmured about Peggy’s dedication and pioneering role about women as leaders, and how they looked forward to working with her in a few years. She only thanked them for coming, just as formally, in reply.

As she walked away slowly, down the middle of the cemetery, Steve hurried to catch up with her. “Sharon,” he prompted. “My sincere condolences.”

Sharon smiled very gently at him, and then at Tony. She gave them both equally very long hugs, with a peck on the cheek each. “Thank you,” she answered. “I should say the same to you.”

“I had wondered what had happened to you,” Steve admitted. “It’s been a while since I heard anything about you. Maria said you were recruited by the CIA?”

“Yes, I was… busy for a couple of months,” Sharon answered, and Steve accepted the half-answer for what it was.

“You seem to be back in full strength,” Steve remarked.

Sharon bowed her head slightly, acknowledging the compliment.

There was a moment of silence. The wind had finally died down until it was barely perceptible, but rain began to swirl down out of the dark sky. Most of the guests were gone now; there were still Bucky and Natasha standing together by the edge of the cemetery. A few former SHIELD agents, who may or may not be still working for Phil were also standing not far off.

Sharon reached out for Steve’s hand briefly and then she was gone, Tony’s hold of his waist unwavering.

Tony took his hand once more and led him through the gates. Steve smiled, because having someone to hold his hand at a funeral, that’s what he had been looking for for years, at every single grave he’d had to stand. His father’s. His mother’s. Friends. Family. He had known… holding himself together the day Peggy died would be one of the most difficult things Steve would have to do.

And yet, he breathed in, and stroked his thumb over whatever of Tony’s skin he could. Bucky cast him a reassuring smile from afar, and he knew, as long as he had them at his side, everything would be absolutely, positively fine.

 

* * *

“You sure Bucky can’t come with us?” Steve asked. “He’s part of the team, maybe not an active member, but part of the team nonetheless.”

Tony stared down at his hands as he shook his head heavily in lieu of a reply.

They were sitting in a café near the church, having a last coffee together with the team, before Bucky would leave for New York, and the rest of them would travel to Vienna.

Steve couldn’t sign the Accords, but he wouldn’t let Tony go there alone either. Too long had he allowed for all those political weights to be pressed down on Tony’s shoulders and his shoulders alone. No more. This was something they all had to deal with together. They might disagree on this now, but it was a decision they would have to reach together, and staying home in New York and sulking over this wouldn’t help the matter.

“He can’t,” Tony said eventually, then glanced at Bucky. “Sorry. Convincing them to let you come to London was basically it.”

“I know,” Bucky replied. “I’m glad I could come. Say my goodbyes.”

A sigh. Tony leaned back in his chair, his sunglasses firmly in place, and took another sip of his Frappuccino. “And you haven’t changed your mind?” He didn’t address anyone in particular, but it was clear who he was talking to.

Steve looked to Sam, then Natasha, then back down on his hands. He shook his head.

Tony’s jaw twitched, and Steve could see his knuckles going white as he gripped his coffee cup tighter. “I wish I could spare you the trouble, I really do,” Tony said, and he even sounded like he meant it. “But you’ve always told me that it’s our duty to save the world, Steve. Live or die. This looks like our only hope to keep doing that.”

“If it doesn’t work,” Steve said quietly, but no less determined, “we’ll be left in a worse position than we are currently in.”

He knew in his heart that he was right. The government might think they had good intentions with this, and of course he didn’t want people to be afraid of them, but this was always the starting point. Eventually, they would be asked to do their country a service here, solve a political issue there, and before they’d know, they might not be able to do what they had set out to do four years ago.

And once they had agreed on this, there was no going back.

“If we don’t try it, we may not even _have_ a position,” Tony said.

“You heard Ross,” Natasha added. “If you don’t sign, that means you’re not part of the team anymore.”

“It means _Ross_ doesn’t see me as part of the team anymore,” Steve corrected, staring up at the two and willing them to agree. At least to this. “I won’t step down as long as you don’t want me to. And not as long as the world still needs me.”

A flimsy smile took hold of Natasha’s lips. “You make it sound so easy. If you take action without the government’s approval, I don’t think they’ll let it slide.”

“They won’t put us in jail,” Sam said, and Steve knew it was meant as a joke, but the quick look Natasha cast Tony spoke volumes.

This might be exactly what they’d do.

Tony opened his mouth to say more, but then shook his head, turning from the table. Something caught his attention and Steve spotted the UN psychiatrist outside. The man had brown, short cut hair, and a particularly serious face. He was tapping a finger on his watch, a clear sign that their time was over.

Bucky cleared his throat. “Well. Gotta catch my private jet,” he joked. “I’ll see you at home?”

Steve didn’t miss the longing in Bucky’s eyes as he paused to look at Natasha. Her eyes flickered to the team for a brief moment, before she leaned in to kiss Bucky.

“Stay safe,” he murmured against her mouth, and Natasha drew back, smiling at him.

“I’ll be back home doing my nails before you’ll know.”

Bucky nodded. “Counting on it.”

“Give Ian a kiss for us, yeah?” Steve asked Bucky. The words were out of his mouth before he remembered that Bucky wasn’t exactly allowed near Ian at the moment.

Bucky didn’t let it show. He smiled at him. “I’ll tell your nanny to give him some extra cuddles, sure.”

“Great,” Steve agreed and stood up to hug Bucky, but the UN soldiers were gesturing towards the exit rather hurriedly now, so Steve only clasped a hand on his shoulder. “Safe flight.”

“Oh, safe it will be,” Bucky answered with a cheeky grin and raised his shackled hands in means of a goodbye wave. Outside, the psychiatrist was steering him towards a dark van, and on the next beat, Bucky was out of sight.

When Steve turned around, Natasha’s expression was one of troubled thought.

“What is it?”

She startled somewhat, and glanced up at him. Her eyes briefly flickered back to the van, but eventually, she shook her head with a smile. “Nothing,” she said. “Just a weird train of thought.”

 

* * *

 

As Steve watched Tony walk down the steps to sign the Accords with Natasha and members of the UN, he was wrapped up in doubts he wasn’t quite prepared to share with anyone, though it was proving harder and harder.

He knew he needed to protect his family. That always came first. Signing the Accords might just be the easiest way to do it, and a not-too-small part of him wanted to go down there and simply get it out of the way. Return home and let the government draw consequences on their own accords, and simply live his life.

And yet, he couldn’t do it.

Their work was too important, and there simply was no one else to do it. So many things had gone wrong already, but they still had a chance to make it right. Accepting an institution— _any_ institution—to push their own interests down on the team, it wasn’t something Steve could stand for. It had been the same with the World Security Council, the same with SHIELD. He knew that doing this now would be something he’d regret forever.

It was always like this, Steve thought grimly, given the government’s propensity for exerting control over their initiatives. They weren’t likely to relinquish it now, even if Tony agreed to comply with their orders.

Either way, Steve still had to protect Tony and Ian from every threat, including human ones. Maybe now more so than ever. And even though he couldn’t sign the Accords like this, he knew they’d have to make a few compromises to make it work.

And for Tony… and for Ian… he would.

When King T’Chaka of Wakanda took stance at the podium, Steve had definitely lost track of time. He had been so deep in thought that he hadn’t even noticed Tony sitting back down next to him.

“You’re not really here, are you?” Tony asked. He linked his fingers with Steve’s hand and drew it into his lap.

“Sorry,” Steve whispered. He looked at Tony, into those brown warm eyes, and the thought of them being divided over something as the Accords had his insides churn.

“I love you, you know?” he asked quietly. “This doesn’t change anything between us. I won’t allow it.”

Tony’s small smile had lasted only a second, but it was definitely there. “Yeah, I know.” He squeezed Steve’s hand firmly, his voice suddenly gruff with emotion. “Love you just as much. And we’ll find a way.”

“We will.”

That, of course, was when a detonation hit the glass front of the room. Steve had a split-second to realize what was happening, and on the next beat, Natasha had already thrown him down on the floor, his own hold on Tony taking him down as well.

Natasha was scarily fast in these kinds of situations.

“What,” Tony coughed, his face full of ashes.

“We’re making friends everywhere we go,” Natasha muttered. As soon as they had raised their heads, Steve spotted a crying man on the floor in the middle of the room, and two things were perfectly clear.

One, there had been a bomb.

Two, King T’Chaka of Wakanda had just gotten assassinated right before their eyes.


	5. The Gravest Threat

 

**Steve**

 

The Quinjet was parked in one of Tony’s warehouses just outside Vienna. Sam drove them there in silence, and the drive, unfortunately, went by with little distractions.

Steve still had no idea how things could’ve gone so wrong in such a short amount of time. Or maybe, he just hadn’t seen it coming. His shoulders felt sore from how tense he was; there was a hollow ache in his chest, and, as the merciful numbness after the bombing began to dissipate, it was replaced by an overwhelming sense of worry.

He still saw T’Chaka’s son behind closed eyelids. The anguish, the hurt, and the beginnings of something very dangerous. The beginnings of rage and a fierce wish for vengeance.

Steve watched Tony’s still form as he looked out the window on the car seat next to him. The lights were speeding past them and he couldn’t wait to return home. He knew Ian was safe with Veronica, and Happy, and Bruce, but in times like this he preferred having his son near.

Steve could easily feel the tension radiating through Tony’s body, could sense the confusion threading through his emotions, while every single one of them magnified and multiplied within him. This wasn’t what either of them had wanted for the team, and things would get less pleasant now, Steve knew it.

“Any word on the attacker?” he asked.

Natasha shook her head. She balanced a tablet on top of her knees. “No. Vienna is pretty much shut down at the moment, but they haven’t found anyone yet.”

Stroking a fingertip over his wedding band, Steve looked down on it. The vibranium seemed a bit duller than usual; maybe it needed to be polished.

“Damn it,” Natasha suddenly exclaimed. She had her messenger open and typed with crazily fast fingers.

“What is it?” Steve asked.

“The UN just made a statement that James’ jet has gone off radar two hours ago. They’d just left London, then all signals died.”

“What?” Steve and Tony said in unison.

Tony had his phone in his hands in a heartbeat, scrolling through some pages, before he typed in a few lines of code to probably get some of the not-yet-official information.

There was a heavy pause when Tony let his phone sink to his knees.

“It’s getting worse,” he confirmed after a moment. “One of the surveillance cameras got a photo of the attacker. They’re about to announce it.”

Steve buried his face in both hands, letting a heavy breath lose. “Don’t say it.”

So instead of answering, Tony handed him the phone, his expression unreadable.

Steve glanced down, and couldn’t even bring himself to be surprised.

He passed the phone to Natasha, and when a soft defeated breath resounded within the car, Steve let his head drop back against headrest.

Damn it all.

The attacker was Bucky.

 

* * *

 

The hangar seemed eerily quiet as Steve and Tony padded down the gangway. The others were already sitting in the Quinjet, sans only Sam—and Natasha, who was anxiously walking up and down next to the rear hedge, phone in hand.

They stepped around a corner, walking a little further into some secluded hallway, before they came to a stop. No lights were on; there was no sound. Steve supposed he should feel grateful for it, but instead found himself resentful and uneasy, wishing for some noise to crack through the funeral silence.

“Somehow, I’d hoped after today things were looking up,” Steve said, then sighed. Tony had gotten notice of an unauthorized landing at a smaller airport near Vienna, just an hour before the bombing. And he had no idea what Tony was thinking now. “You don’t actually believe he did this, right?”

Tony shook his head. “Probably not, no.”

“Probably?” Steve echoed. “Tony, this is Bucky we’re talking about.”

“And our Bucky wouldn’t do that,” Tony agreed. “But the Winter Soldier would. And you saw how easily he was triggered.”

“He was under surveillance, at all times. They had _prepared_ for him to be triggered. There had been two dozen soldiers with him—you have to see that there’s something off about this.”

“Maybe.” Tony heaved a low breath. “I’m not saying it was him. For now, let’s just go with the option that someone wants to blackmail him to push the anti-superhero-movement, all right? We’ll see what’s what.”

Steve nodded. “Thank you.”

Tony’s jaw twitched. “Don’t thank me yet. I’ll try talking with Ross so he won’t make any urgent moves, like giving a killing order.”

“He could do that?”

“Officially, Bucky just killed a Head of State and about three dozen other people, Steve. Yes, he could definitely do that. Might already have. And Austria’s authorities is a whole other matter.”

There was a longer pause, and something in Tony’s expression gentled as he stepped up to him, reaching for both of his hands. “How’re you holding up?”

“I don’t know,” Steve answered. “I really don’t.”

“Mutual.” Tony hesitated, clearly wanting to ask the obvious and clearly uncertain as to whether he should.

“This is moving awfully fast, don’t you think?” Steve asked instead.

Tony smiled. “Yeah.”

“What do you think will happen now?”

“I don’t know. But with what already happened, I think that if we don’t do this now, sign the Accords as a team, shit really will hit the fan.”

“Not the first time,” Steve reminded him.

There was an almost imperceptible nod from Tony, a searching look in the brown eyes, but nothing more. Nothing demanding. Somehow, it made things much easier. “No, it isn’t. But it’s one thing, trying to find out what happened with Bucky, but it’s another altogether if the whole world is trying to stop you while you’re doing that.”

“That,” Steve told him urgently, “is exactly my point.”

“I know,” Tony answered. “I see your point, I’m not dismissing it, but this is happening, Steve. Whether or not you like it, it’s already happening. And we have a chance to take part in _how_ this is moving forward, but in order to do that, we have to take this step.”

There was a long, heavy pause between them. And Steve knew what Tony would say next before he ever opened his mouth. “Sign it. Steve, I’m begging you.”

Every fiber of him screamed in protest. Divided with the need to both comfort Tony and stand his ground. To pepper his face with soft kisses and shake him until Tony told him that even if Steve _didn’t_ sign it, he would do everything in his power to keep their family intact.

“Tony, I—”

“I have to give Ross _something_.”

“I don’t mean to make things difficult. If I see a situation pointed south, I can’t ignore it. Sometimes I wish I could.”

Tony’s eyes were large, imploring Steve’s but similarly unable to hold his gaze for longer than a few seconds at a time. “No, darling, you don’t.”

Steve smiled. “No, I don’t.”

Tony’s eyes were a storm of Million emotions at once. “Freedom has a price,” he rasped. “You don’t want to be used, and manipulated, and I grant that. You have some not-so great experiences, so do I. But enforced freedom calls for sacrifice.” He put both hands on Steve’s face, staring at him. “I _need_ you by my side, Steve. Please sign. We can find out what happened to Bucky, make sure it doesn’t have any consequences for his trial. Nothing happened yet. But if you take action against the government right now, I’m not sure I can help him… or you.”

Steve swallowed. “I’m not saying it’s impossible. But there would have to be safeguards.”

“Sure,” Tony confirmed all too quickly. “I told you the documents can be amended.”

Steve stared off into the large hangar. His hand, however, cupped the back of Tony’s head, his thumb brushing gently over the curve of his cheek. “I don’t want this to come between us.”

The softly uttered “I love you” that Tony whispered had Steve rumbling the same back at him. He leaned in to kiss him, letting his tongue caress Tony’s mouth as his hands slid to his hips, shoving his shirt up a bit to rub comforting circles against his back muscles that were beyond strained. He made a mental note that one of the first things he would do for him once this was over was a massage—full body. Followed by a long soak in the tub. He could feel the tension wrack through Tony’s system. The essence of his innate strength was worn and tattered—still there, but momentarily forgotten.

“I promise there _will_ be safeguards,” Tony whispered against his lips once he’d drawn back a little. “We’ll find a compromise together, and we’ll work on this paper until we’re all satisfied with the outcome. I won’t force you to do this if you aren’t agreeing with every single word in there, but… sometimes it’s not enough to be against something, Steve. You have to be for something better.”

It seemed as if time stilled between them for a moment. And Steve saw that compromise right before his eyes, saw something that both gave people a sense of security and still let the team do their job when the world needed them. It wouldn’t be easy, but maybe it wasn’t impossible.

So Steve nodded. It was a jerky little thing, and something inside him twisted as he did, but he nodded all the same.

Truth was, he _wanted_ to believe Tony was right so badly. He wanted to believe they could make this work. And for Tony, he needed to give it a try. His heart had been too long in love. Too long Tony’s and Tony’s alone. There was no way he and Steve would be standing on opposite sides. Not ever.

“Steve?” Tony asked, his eyes large.

“Yes,” Steve said. “Yes, okay. We’ll work on it. Find a compromise.”

Tony’s knees nearly seemed to buckle at that. “Thank you,” he breathed, then exhaled a relieved snort. “Second-favorite ‘yes’ from you so far.”

Steve pulled back. “I promised you,” he said, thumbs still rubbing comforting circles on his cheeks. For some reason, it made a cold shiver run up Tony’s spine. “I’m not leavin’. I meant that.”

For a long moment, they continued to hold each other, Steve’s hands brushing across Tony’s cheeks.

“When I’m home, we’ll meet with your lawyers,” Steve started.

Tony’s exhalation blew through the air. “You’ll have to sign first. There’s a paragraph explicitly saying it’s a draft paper and all parties will be allowed to negotiate further changes. I had my lawyers check it, already. Sign first, discuss later. It’s safe.”

Steve was as unsure about this as was humanly possible. “Tony, I—I _can’t_. I can’t give them a blank approval.”

Tony grimaced, then stared at the ceiling briefly. “Fine,” he said. “It’s gonna be hell to have Ross agree to this, but I’ll manage. Compromise first, sign later.”

“Thank you,” Steve said, smiling at him.

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony murmured.

There, they could deal with this. They’d been through worse, and something like this didn’t have the power to break what was between them. Gently, Steve cupped Tony’s cheeks again and they met in the middle.

He brushed a light kiss over Tony’s lips, trembling at the wealth of emotion that sparked through his skin at the contact. And he wished so much they could just go home now, go back to their imperfect-perfect life, but he also knew he had to make sure his friend was okay.

“I’ll be back soon,” Steve told him. “Tell Ian I love him, yeah?”

“You can tell him yourself tomorrow. And… he knows it anyway.”

Steve nodded, pulling Tony in again, when someone cleared their throat to their left.

There was deep concern etched on Natasha’s features. “Phil doesn’t know where he is. Nor does Sharon,” she told Steve. “I told them to call you if they have any news.”

“Thanks.” He knew how hard it was for Natasha not to come with him right now. He turned to Tony. “Stay safe.”

Tony smiled at him. “If you find him, you have to bring him home, Steve. What Sam said about them putting us in jail, if we don’t cooperate—I’m half-sure that’s exactly what will happen. So no games, and then we’ll get this mess sorted.”

“Sounds good,” he said and leaned in for a last kiss.

He had never hated saying goodbye more than in this moment.

“If they find him first, he gotta turn himself in.”

“Understood.”

Natasha herded Tony on, nodding her acknowledgment at Steve. “Bring him home.”

Natasha looked so tired, and she didn’t seem to realize it. Where she got her energy from, he’d never know.

“I will,” he promised.

“C’mon,” Tony said to Natasha, “we need to get moving.”

Steve watched them walk towards the Quinjet that would bring them back to New York. Back to their home. It should have been comforting to know how easy it had always been to slip back into that life—their life—, even after great catastrophes, but it felt anything but. As Steve stared after his husband, he had a sinking feeling that this time, things would irrevocably change.

And there was no way to tell if it was for the better.

Trying unsuccessfully to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat, Steve headed back to their car where Sam was already waiting for him.

 

* * *

 

When Sam stopped the car, Steve scrutinized the disused and neglected playground in front of them. The swings, slide and climbing frame had undoubtedly seen better days. Rusty and fallen into disrepair, long since abandoned by children with better games to play.

A wave of childhood nostalgia washed through him as he remembered sunny afternoons spent with his mother in a Brooklyn playground, back in the days. Back when they were happy, when his father had only drank a beer every other week and his mother never coughed. Back when he and Bucky had been everything each of them had. Back when the future was his alone to decide.

Those days seemed so long ago now, nothing but a distant memory. Nowadays, his responsibilities never ceased, and it seemed the obstacles thrown their way were getting larger every time.

“You sure he’s here, somewhere?”

Sam’s voice sounded doubtful, and Steve knew where he was coming from. They had searched for hours, driving around the city’s outskirts near a former US Army landing ground in Vienna where the unauthorized plane had landed earlier.

“If he isn’t here I wouldn’t know where to look,” he said, and let his eyes drift over the scenery. The street seemed fairly deserted, and there were several empty houses. A perfect hideout. Something he’d look for if he had to go under for a while.

“Let’s park the car here, walk around a bit.”

“What if he’s not himself?” Sam asked. He followed Steve down the streets, however, not even waiting for an explanation.

“Then we’ll deal with it,” Steve said.

They walked down the street, checking the decaying doors and buildings for some signs that someone broke in. It took three blocks, before Steve spotted a shattered window at the end of the street. Since they’d walked around in a circle around the landing strip, the house was only ten minutes away from the airport.

He walked closer and sniffed the air. There wasn’t much of a scent there, but something rang familiar. Inside the house, everything looked mostly as Steve had expected it to. Dusty shelves and walls, a musty smell. There was a stairway down into the cellar, and Steve could see footprints on the floor, clearly those of a man.

“Stay up here,” Steve ordered, and raised his shield in front of him.

He only made it three steps before the door to the cellar burst open with such force that it tore from its hinges. A figure jumped out and charged for Steve but it moved too fast for him to see who it was.

On the other hand, he didn’t need to see him to know it was Bucky.

Steve fell into the wall and grunted in pain, but he quickly lifted his eyes when he heard the sounds of a pained groan. Bucky had Sam pinned against the opposite wall as he strangled his throat with his metal hand. While Sam heaved rattling breaths in agony and tried to fend Bucky off with his fists, Steve stepped up to him from behind.

He grabbed Bucky’s shoulders and pulled with all of his strength. Bucky whirled around and tried to hit him

Not even a glimpse of the man Steve knew seemed to remain in his blue, haunted eyes. He wasn’t himself. It was an understatement, but this was far worse than the times he’d been triggered at home. Natasha had her ways of getting Bucky under control, but for Steve, it had only ever helped to fight Bucky until he had no power in himself anymore.

“Bucky,” he said urgently, trying not to hurt him too much. “This isn’t you.”

“Ты меня совсем не знаешь,” Bucky said. _You don’t know me._

The predatory movements never waned, like a rabid dog on the hunt. Steve swallowed, averting his eyes from Bucky for just a moment to look him over. His black tee was dotted with burn marks and holes, as if he’d been sprayed with slag, but nothing else seemed out of place.

No sign that he’d been into a fight with, say, twenty UN soldiers.

“What happened?” he whispered, involuntarily taking a step closer. It had been the wrong move, though, because Bucky lunged for him.

Steve quickly dodged him, but he soon realized that the confining hallway would only make things more difficult, so he ran to the kitchen. Bucky didn’t run after him though.

He strolled.

Then he grabbed a rusty butcher knife from the counter and held it up in the air, staring at Steve. He placed its tip on the island and dragged it behind him as he made his way around it, the scratching sound filled the air.

Steve scooted around the perimeter of the kitchen with his back against the counter, the two of them moving in time. Without any difficulty, any sound, any warning, Bucky leapt over the island, grabbed Steve before he could run away, and pushed the knife against his throat.

Then, he paused.

Steve used that moment of hesitation to punch Bucky with the shield as hard as he could in the ribs and luckily, it took him by surprise long enough for him to wriggle out of his grasp and gain some distance between them. “Sorry,” he said sincerely when Bucky looked up at him with a flash of surprise. “This hurts me more than it hurts you,” he said, and he gripped a fistful of Bucky’s brown hair and pulled his head up, and then bashed it into the tile below.

 

* * *

 

A good hour later, Bucky was sitting cross-legged on a broken freezer when Steve reentered the cellar. He’d used some iron chains to tie him down, making sure his bionic arm was secured in a manner that should make it impossible for Bucky to get any leverage and free himself. Steve had brought the shield with him, however, in case he was wrong.

Before he’d left, he’d lit two candles, and there was enough light in the room for Steve to see the marks and dried blood on Bucky’s face where he’d hit him earlier.

Steve winced, but didn’t say anything about it. For a few minutes, he didn’t say anything at all, and neither did Bucky, though Steve was sure he knew he was there. Steve walked in and simply sat down onto some battered sofa someone must have salvaged from the dump, and watched him out of the corner of his eye.

“You shouldn’t have come,” Bucky eventually said, and Steve heaved a breath of relief. So he was back to himself again.

“I wouldn’t leave you behind, you know that,” Steve said softly. He stood up and opened the chain with a few quick movements. It fell to the ground an Bucky moved his shoulder around, the metal arm whirring. “We have food and a medkit in our car. You need anything?”

He drew a shuddering breath and said slowly, “No… just, how’s Nat?”

“She’s fine. Didn’t get hurt.”

“And Stark?”

“He’s fine, too.”

Bucky fell silent, then he seemed to remember something. Glancing up at Steve, he breathed a long breath. “I fought you.”

“Nothing I can’t take,” Steve said.

Bucky’s eyes were fixed on the wall, all his thoughts seemingly focused on the effort of not breaking down. “I almost killed Sam.”

It was true. Sam’s voice was still raspy, and the bruises on his throat looked bad. And yet, he would push through.

“He’s tougher than he looks,” Steve said. “Did someone see you when you came here?”

“No, I’m…” Bucky sighed. “I’m not sure. The guy, he… he talked about a bombing. What happened?”

“There was an attack on the Vienna International Centre,” Steve told him.

“Casualties?”

“Yeah.”

Bucky sighed. “I can’t remember—”

“It wasn’t you,” Steve interrupted, and he didn’t need Bucky to confirm it, he knew it couldn’t have been him. There were too many things that didn’t make sense, too much not quite right. “Someone staged it, I’m sure.”

“I knew this would happen again,” Bucky told him quietly. “Everything HYDRA put inside me is still there. The last few times I lost control, at home or down in Bruce’s lab, it was just… short flashbacks. But this felt like my mind resetting to zero. All they had to do was say the goddamn words. I’m not safe. You should’ve never taken me home with you.”

Steve shook his head slowly. “Bucky, who did this?”

Bucky was white as a sheet. His eyes had gone blank—the rest of him contorted with anguish. He released a trembling breath and shook his head, sliding forward until his feet met the floor. “I’m not sure…”

“Try,” Steve urged. “All of this, there needs to be a reason behind it. We need to figure out who’s trying to blackmail you and why. So you got on the plane, and then what?”

Bucky stared at the ground for a long minute, then shook his head. “They put me in the cell, and… the soldiers weren’t there, it was just that doctor. He had a book with him. He… he said something to me. I can’t remember what, I…” Suddenly, his eyes were awash in remembrance, trained on his metal hand. “He wanted to know about Siberia. Where I was kept. He wanted to know exactly where.”

“Why would he need to know that?”

They had talked about Siberia once before. It had been before Bucky had met Natasha, somewhere during the fifties and nineties—dates and timespans in Bucky’s mind were still fuzzy at best—and Bucky had told him about his training, and him training others. The memories hadn’t been quite as clear, but the horror of it all hadn’t been lost on Steve.

Bucky had faced so many of them.

“I’m… not sure.”

“Bucky, tell me.”

“I’m… not the only Winter Soldier,” he said cautiously, as if the information had only just returned to him. “I—They’d frozen and thawed me so many times during that phase, I wasn’t sure if I just imagined all of it. I thought this part of my life was over.”

“Who were they?”

“The most elite death squad. More kills than anyone in HYDRA history. And that was before the serum.”

“They all turned out like you?”

A self-deprecating smile grazed Bucky’s lips. He shook his head. “Worse. Most of the time, I didn’t stand a chance against them.”

“The doctor, can he control them?”

“Enough.”

“He said he wanted to see an empire fall,” Bucky told him after another moment. “With these guys he can do it. They speak thirty languages, can hide in plain sight, infiltrate, assassinate, destabilize, They can take a whole country down in one night. You’d never see them coming.”

Steve breathed in, put the shield back on his back holder. “Then we know where we have to go. We’ll get you back to New York, then Sam and I will—”

“And the others?” Bucky asked. “Shouldn’t you call for back-up?”

A shake of his head. “I don’t think that’s possible. Right now, we’re kinda it. Wanda’s under surveillance, Tony’s gotta take care of Ross.”

“You should tell him, though,” Bucky said, his face serious.

“I—” Steve heaved a breath. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m gonna—”

Steve stared down at his phone when it suddenly vibrated in his pocket. There were five messages. Two from Tony. Two from Natasha. One from Sharon.

All of them said mostly the same.

_They know where you are._

_You have to turn yourself in._

_Don’t give them a reason to open fire._

_They have clearance to shoot._

_Incoming in 5._

“Steve,” Sam called on the next beat. “There’s someone approaching.”

“Understood,” Steve called, irritated that apparently, they _didn’t_ have those five minutes. He helped Bucky to his feet.

“I promised Tony to let them take us in. He’ll get you out. Then we can sort out what’s going on with Siberia together.”

There was a flicker of uncertainty in Bucky’s gaze. Then resolution set in, and he nodded.

Bucky was still a bit wobbly as he took his first step. Together, they walked to the stairway. It was at that moment that a loud sound filled the house, like a generator powering down. The overhead lights flickered rapidly, and then it was suddenly pitch black. A booming, crashing noise sounded from somewhere outside.

“Is that guy wearing a _cat suit_?” Sam asked with a shrill voice as he pointed to one of the windows.

“What?” Steve breathed. He followed Sam’s gaze and instead of Austrian Special Forces, as he had expected, he saw a man in a black suit and mask approaching, golden claws on his gauntlets shining dangerously in the moonlight.

It didn’t look as if he wanted to bring them in peacefully.

“Get Bucky to the exit!” he yelled. “Sam, south, we’ll meet at the car.”

“Who the hell is that guy?”

Steve heaved a hurried breath. “No idea, but I’m sure we’re about to find out.”

On the next beat, the man jumped through the living room window and Steve’s shield crashed against a clawed hand. The man lunged and collided with him, and the force sent Steve flying back into a large bookshelf. He crashed through the glass front and landed rather painfully atop what looked like a bunch of dusty Golf Championship trophies. The cat man pressed down on him more, his claws already digging into Steve’s chest. Steve managed to kick him in the chest to stun him, grabbed one of the trophies, and rammed it onto his head.

“Shouldn’t let this become a habit,” Steve murmured as he looked at the unconscious form, then he started to run. As he headed towards their car, however, Steve spotted spotlights and dozens _POLIZEI_ signs in the distance.

He was about to raise both hands and signal them that they wouldn’t make any problems, when, behind them, Steve saw the cat man running out of the house.

_Damn_ _it_.

The guy was deathly quiet as he dashed forward towards them.

Steve frantically reached for his shield when the man leaped over the top of the hood to get to Bucky at the other side of the car

Bucky ducked and raised his bionic arm in defense, grasping the man’s throat to keep him—and his claws—at a distance. They traded a few punches, before Bucky managed to throw the man off. Right in the direction of the approaching police cars.

On the next beat, shots were ringing all around them.

“Shit,” Steve cursed, and now, they really had no other choice than to fight their way out. He saw the consequences of any action against federal police forces trickle down before his eyes, but there was nothing he could do about it.

They would shoot Bucky. And he couldn’t let that happen.

So as he helped Sam with carrying Bucky forward, Steve twirled the three of them around fast so that the first shots were hitting the shield on his back. The phone in his pocket vibrated steadily, but he couldn’t stop to check who it was. The bullets were banging against his back as he picked up the pace. They couldn’t stop moving until they were safe.

Where they were going to go was a different matter altogether.

He shoved Bucky into the car against Sam, who was just turning the ignition. Raising his shield, Steve took a steadying breath, then threw it into the air. The shield flew a perfect arc and hit four—five—policemen, before dipping a bit lower and slashing a few car tires. After grabbing the shield when it flew back to him, Steve swiftly kicked the door shut. The sudden sound was like a starter pistol and on the next beat, the cat man had jumped onto the hood once more.

“Go!” Steve shouted and smashed the front window so he could throw the man off. In that moment, Sam stepped on the gas pedal and they sped into the night.


	6. The Lucky Ones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys still here? :) Sorry for the delay. Next 2 weeks will be a bit busy for me, afterwards I'll be back to regular updates.

 

**Tony | Steve**

 

Tony stepped outside the balcony of the UN headquarter, letting his gaze sweep over the New York skyline. He pressed both hands to the handrail, gripping it until his knuckles turned white. No one had followed him, not Rhodey, not Natasha, although he could see that it cost them not to.

Rhodey had come over after what had happened, and Natasha had been by his side ever since it all started. The only one who hadn’t stepped into the headquarter was Bruce, and Tony respected that. If it were him, he wouldn’t have faced Ross again, either.

Tony was trying everything in him not to despair now. The news were raising questions on whether or not Captain America had died in that shooting in Vienna’s suburbs, and he couldn’t call Steve, since the Avengers were now officially a government-issued organization.

And Steve was very much not. Within hours, he’d made it to the FBI’s Most Wanted list. For now, it was only about gathering information, but as soon as they had final proof that Steve had indeed voluntarily helped a terrorist flee, then there was not much Tony could do for him.

Yet, he wouldn’t despair.

Steve was alive. He had to be. And as of now, that was all that mattered. For now, things could still be amended. If Steve only got back here.

The fact that he didn’t answer any of Tony’s encrypted messages was simply because he was busy getting his stubborn ass out of danger.

Anyway, all Tony wanted right now was quiet, and there was no quiet to be had while sitting around a crowded conference room. When he had left, he had felt their pitying gazes following him to the door; and now, even as he stood here, he could still hear them. They were talking about him. Worrying.

He tuned out the muffled sound of their voices. He didn’t know what exactly had happened in Vienna. He knew the German GSG9 task force had been involved, and that there had been gunshots, and a mysterious guy in a goddamn cat-suit—Tony had barely understood what Ross had been ranting about when he had called half an hour ago. It was almost like they’d been having two or three different conversations at the same time.

He stared out onto the moonlit night sky and got lost in the movement below. At least, that’s why he told himself he didn’t hear Happy approach. The steps on the ground were loud, but he was dazed, lost in his thoughts, and he didn’t hear him.

Happy had Ian cradled against his chest. Tony could hear his soft breaths and the little smacks of his lips.

“You look tired, boss,” Happy said.

“Long day,” Tony answered dryly.

“Oh, yeah. The little guy didn’t want to settle down either.”

Tony smiled, petting Happy’s shoulder. He took Ian into his arms, gently swaying him from side to side. “Thanks for staying with him.”

“It’s nothing. You alright?”

“Sure,” Tony said. “Why shouldn’t I be?”

Happy smiled, and shook his head. “Never mind. I called Miss Klein, she’ll arrive in a little bit, take over for you if you need it. Good night, boss.”

When Happy was gone, Tony brushed a thumb over Ian’s soft brown hair. It was curling slightly in his nape now, and with him sleeping so peacefully, he looked so much like Steve it had Tony smile.

“I love you, baby,” Tony whispered. “Sorry your papa can’t be here tonight, I’m sure he’s thinking about you a lot.”

He sighed softly, once again so distracted by his own thoughts, he didn’t notice anything amiss until, suddenly, Natasha stood next to him.

“Tony,” she prompted, her tone subdued.

It took him a moment to raise his eyes from Ian’s sleeping face. “Can this wait? Haven’t seen the little guy in a while.” A while was just a bit over one day, but he couldn’t care less about his clinginess right now.

“They got out,” she whispered close to his ear, and with those words, she ushered him inside. She turned on the television, the volume turned off, and her expression was very grave. “FRIDAY got a satellite feed. Look.”

On the television, Tony watched three men run away through the Vienna suburbs, a good few dozen armed soldiers hot on their heels. There were shots, over and over again. The soldiers fired to kill, and all Tony could do was stare at the little figure that was his husband.

However, this time the camera switched to bird perspective, clearly FRIDAY’s work, a recording most likely, and Tony smiled when he spotted Steve shoving everyone in the car before he hopped in a second later. There were a few seconds of video material afterwards, with satellites following Steve’s car along the various motorways. Then, the screen of the television turned black.

“Delete all,” Tony ordered into his phone’s speakers. At Natasha’s questioning brow, he shrugged. “Wouldn’t want this in the wrong hands, would we?”

“You know we’re kind of obligated to share any crucial information with the UN now, right?” Natasha asked, though the corners of her mouth had lifted slightly.

“Can’t share what I don’t have,” Tony quipped and pressed a kiss on Ian’s forehead. “Your father goes where he goes, and he never tells me, isn’t that right, darling?”

Natasha snorted and petted Tony’s shoulder in what he assumed was quiet agreement.

Shortly after, one by one, everyone drifted back into the conference room. Even Pepper had joined them. She sat opposite Rhodey, her long limbs folded into an uncomfortable looking shape, her head was tilted back against the wall and her eyes were full of worry whenever Tony glanced at her.

Maria came in next, bringing coffee, which was silently accepted. She sat down in a chair next to Natasha, leaning forward, elbows on knees. The coffee cups were lined up on the table and Tony leaned over to grab one of them.

“No word yet?” Rhodey asked in Maria’s direction.

Negative headshakes were her only answer.

A tiny shiver snaked its way through Tony. He _hated_ the idea that Steve was on the run without him. Hated waiting. Tony really, really hated waiting.

Not for the first time since Steve had parted ways with him at that Austrian hangar, Tony turned concerned eyes on Natasha and said, “I should have gone with him. I should’ve known he and Barnes would be followed. And I really should’ve known that Steve wouldn’t be raising the white flag.”

Natasha merely raised an eyebrow and remained silent, while Maria drank her coffee next to her. “In his defense,” she said after a moment. “They didn’t exactly give him a chance to do that.”

Tony sighed. “Yeah… you’re right.”

He glanced around the room, at Pepper’s and Maria’s stoic faces, and huffed a loud breath. “How can you be so calm?” Tony asked, feeling irritated. “Is it a girl thing?”

Pepper merely smiled and Natasha answered, “Yes. We’re bred this way, didn’t you know?”

“Very funny.” Tony thought about saying more but the quip died before he voiced it. He wished he could have a sliver of their coolness, but it had all evaporated the second some police officer had raised his gun to shoot at Steve.

Pepper’s phone chirped, and after she had hummed a few times, listening to whoever it was on the other side, she turned her serious gaze back on Tony.

“It’s Secretary Ross for you.”

 

* * *

 

The next alleyway, as Steve had hoped, was deserted.

At some point last day, they had neared the border towards Germany. Vaguely, Steve remembered that Tony had stationed a Quinjet there, in some smaller airport near Leipzig. In a few hours, they’d make it there, and then they’d fly to Siberia. At least, that was the plan.

But now, they needed to rest.

He didn’t have much cash on him; and tracking his credit cards would be far too easy for people like Ross. Or Tony, if they forced his hand. And they _would_ —Steve realized. And that meant he couldn’t share any information with Tony at the moment.

They also couldn’t risk going to one of Tony’s safehouses. It would be easier to stay somewhere here, in the suburbs, since neither of them would attract much attention, and if they kept moving around, the chances of discovery would be lessened.

There were the sounds of steps and Steve tried grabbing for his shield and only relaxed when he saw Sam landing next to him. He clapped a hand on Steve’s shoulder, handing him a duffel bag.

“Your uniform,” he informed him.

“Where are we going?” Bucky asked.

“Just follow me,” Steve said as he fell into a steady jog.

The first rays of the morning were creeping out over the horizon, causing Steve to look around suspiciously. “Here,” he muttered as he skidded to a stop at the entry of some abandoned factory.

Steve heaved the door open, and they slipped inside.

“Why are you doing this?” was the first thing out of Bucky’s mouth. He reached for Steve’s arm and dragged him back.

Steve sighed. “You know why.”

“No, I don’t!” Bucky grabbed him by the shoulder and slammed him up against the closed door. “Stop making everything your business!”

“You’re my friend!” Steve shot back, grief causing his mask of indifference to drop. “We needed to get out, so I did.”

“We hurt people!”

Steve just stared at Bucky with a furrowed brow. Something in his piercing blue eyes told him that this pain wasn’t his own. Bucky always had a way of knowing all about Steve’s feelings well before he was able to decipher them. And the pain in his features right now—that was all Steve’s.

“No one died,” Steve amended, “and they would’ve killed you! Damn it, I don’t know. I was trying to keep you safe—”

Bucky groaned in annoyance, then visibly reined himself in. “What are you still doing here?”

“What?”

“What are you _doing_ here?” Bucky persisted. “You brought me out. Why aren’t you leaving? You shouldn’t be here, you should be with your family, with your _son_ , this will ruin _everything_ for you.”

“Because I can’t just abandon you, you idiot,” Steve retorted. “I’m staying. Get used to it.”

“Guys—” Sam started, sighing.

Bucky wearily leaned his metal arm against the wall. “What are we gonna do, Steve? _Fuck_.”

“I don’t know yet. We gotta find this guy and stop him from wreaking any more havoc. We’ll have to come up with a plan,” he said glibly.

Sam gave Bucky a thin, humorless smile. “He’s good with planning.”

Bucky shook his head at Steve. “And how do you know that your presence won’t make it worse?” he asked. “If you get caught up in the fire, you’ll tear the whole team apart, Steve… Me, I… I don’t matter that much.”

Steve sighed, and pulled Bucky into a firm hug. “You _matter_ , not more or less than everyone of us.”

“But Ian—”

“It’s temporary,” Steve said, and felt himself tearing up as he buried his face in Bucky’s shoulder. He suddenly felt suffocated and the air around him grew thick. “I have to believe it’s temporary.”

They stood like that for a long moment, and Bucky rubbed circles on his back with his hand. “I’m okay,” Steve said. He wasn’t, but he felt that Bucky needed to hear it.

Steve felt Bucky’s body tense. He was clenching his hands into fist, his whole body shaking. “I’m fine, Buck. Really. Tony and I… we’ll push through.”

They had to.

“This would be a lot easier if we could… If we call them,” Bucky said, “bring in the others. Explain what’s going on. Fly to Siberia together and stop that bastard.”

“We can’t. Not right now.” A sigh from Steve. “Ross won’t believe a word we say, and we have to find out what the game plan is before something happens. We’re on our own.”

“Maybe not,” Sam said thoughtfully. A smile rose to his lips. “I know a guy.”

 

* * *

 

Tony couldn’t settle down, couldn’t stop the buzzing that was racing through his bloodstream. A good hour had passed since Ross had announced his arrival and he still hadn’t shown his stupid face. And Tony still stood in the bathroom nearby. He’d spent endless minutes trying to figure out a way how to help Steve without helping him, how to keep him safe without turning everyone else against him, but so far, he’d come up empty.

He had wondered often over the past day where they would be now if he’d told Ross to go fuck himself when he’d presented them with the Accords. How it would be if he’d had the foresight to see what was ahead. If he’d known the decision Steve would make. Would such realization have changed anything?

Tony had no answers.

Eventually, he supposed, it didn’t matter. And it was beside the point, because Tony was going to get his husband back.

As soon as he stepped into the hallway, slow footsteps sounded, then the door creaked open. Natasha was staring intently at her phone, not even looking up.

“You all right?” Tony asked her. She startled a little, something he’d never seen her do. She looked as nervous as he’d ever seen her.

She nodded, then shrugged. “Just checking if James tried to contact me.”

“And?”

“Nothing.”

“Steve will know that we can’t help them right now,” Tony told her, hating himself for it, but knowing it was the truth either way.

She faced off against Tony for a few seconds, then caved and nodded. Her face lifted to his and her belligerent stance softened. “I’m worried, too, you know. You can share with someone. Can’t just keep going off and being the hero for everyone.”

“Just doing what I can to keep it together,” he paused, getting a look at the expression on her face. “Won’t let anything happen to either of them.”

Natasha sighed, then stepped closer to him, her arms circling him. “I’m glad you’re here.” She paused, and Tony felt her blink against his neck. “Don’t tell anyone I said that.”

He dropped a kiss on her forehead, hugging her back. “Not likely. We do have a reputation to uphold.”

“We do,” she agreed.

They let go, smiling at each other, before schooling their expressions once more. Together, they walked back into the conference room, just as the heavy tread of Ross’ steps resounded, accompanied by the fretting of his assistants.

“Found him?” Tony asked immediately. The demand tore from his throat before the door latched behind the new arrival.

Ross sighed tiredly, removing his glasses. “Stark—”

Tony took a menacing step forward. “Have. You. Found. Him?”

“Not yet,” Ross offered. “We’re waiting—”

“Waiting? Tell me _right now_ where you—”

“We _know_ what’s at stake, Stark,” Ross began, his voice exhausted. “We know he’s your husband. We know you want to be informed, but I don’t have any information yet, either. We just know that Rogers, and Barnes, and Wilson, and apparently King T’Challa from Wakanda broke off a car chase, injuring about twenty policemen, six of them badly, and a few dozen more people on the streets.”

“For someone who doesn’t have any information, you’re surprisingly well informed,” Tony shot back, curling both hands into fists. _Damn it, Steve._

“We’re doing the best we can.”

A maniacal giggle bubbled off Tony’s lips. “The best? This is your best?”

“Need I remind you again that we do not answer to you?” Ross said sternly. “And you are not the only one who cares about Rogers. He’s a national symbol. And we’ve been searching all day. Tell me, Stark, what have _you_ been doing?”

“I was doing what you told me to do. I’m staying here, while I could very well be over there and just find him myself. But I’m doing this your way—and _your way_ isn’t working!”

“Listen, we’ll bring them in. GSG9’s got the borders covered. Recons flying 24/7. They’ll get a hit.”

“You won’t be _hitting_ anything. Let me handle it!”

“You don’t _get_ it,” Ross snapped at Tony. “It’s not yours to handle! It’s clear you can’t be objective. I’m putting special ops on this, end of discussion.”

“And what happens when the shooting starts again?” Tony snarls. “I won’t let you kill my team-members. Do you want Captain America’s blood on your hands?”

“Barnes would have been eliminated in Vienna if it wasn’t for Rogers. There are dead people who would be alive now if you hadn’t kept us from bringing Barnes in before it was too late. Feel free to check my math.”

“All due respect, you’re not going to solve this with boys in bullet vest,” Pepper calmly told him.

“You got to let us bring him in,” Tony urged.

“And how will that end? Why should I trust you? You’re married to the man.”

“That’s _exactly_ why you should trust me that I don’t want him on the run, chased by police cars. Seventy-two hours, guaranteed.”

“Thirty-six,” Ross said, pointing at him. “And you’re going to work together with our teams, no tricks. You’ll link us to your team’s communication system, since you don’t have anything to hide from me, and you’ll share every bit of information. _And_ you’re going to bring them _all_ in. Barnes. Wilson. Rogers.”

“Stark-Rogers,” Tony said, raising his chin.

Ross smiled, and it didn’t even look gleeful, just tired, and it made Tony hate him so much more. “Exactly.”

With that, Ross left.

For a few minutes more, Tony listened with half an ear as Ross’ assistant ticked off the availability of the UN’s wetworks operatives and what they would do if Tony failed to do his job. The bulk of his attention, however, was on the hard copy reports of the Sokovia Accords right in front of him.

He never should’ve agreed to sign it while Steve still had his doubts. He should’ve talked to him sooner, should’ve made a compromise before Ross gave them a deadline.

When would he finally learn not to keep things to himself?

When Tony looked around, they were alone again. Pepper and Maria had accompanied Ross outside and Natasha’s expression fell into a kind, sympathetic smile which did nothing to conceal Tony’s own worries. “Sharon has a few contacts left. Maybe she has an idea.”

“Have you eaten?” Rhodey asked suddenly, reminding Tony, if only for a second, of Jarvis. “You look terrible.”

Tony’s eyes found the ground, anger receding. Rhodey was pointing a sandwich at him expectantly, but Tony shook his head. “No. Bring me another coffee?” he asked, and _no_ , his voice wasn’t whiny.

“No sandwich, no coffee,” Rhodey told him. “Steve wouldn’t want that.”

That was a matter of opinion, but Tony didn’t feel like arguing. Instead, he turned to Pepper, when she walked back into the room, tension rolling off her shoulders. “Did you talk to Vi?”

“Ian’s fine. He’s a trooper, like his dads,” Pepper answered, rubbing her thin arms. “Veronica will stay as long as you need her. But you’re not the only one with an eating disorder.”

“He isn’t eating?”

Pepper nodded somberly.

“Why aren’t _you_ eating?” Natasha countered, brows arching.

“Because I can’t,” Tony replied with a clenched jaw. “Every time I try, my stomach turns.”

Tony sighed and tried to recall the last time he’d seen Steve. His eyes warm but troubled when he looked at Tony, face fortified with determination. Had he known then? Had he known what he was going to do? What he was going to sacrifice?

Tony shook his head before his eyes misted. The pain in his chest expanded, creeping over his heart and nearly sending him to his knees. He didn’t know how he stood without shaking. His bones rattled and his muscles felt inches away from slipping off entirely.

“It’s temporary, Tony…” Natasha said, “until we can get them back.”

Tony glanced down with a heavy heart. “If I can get them back, I have to put them into cells. If I can’t, it’s most likely they’ll be shot in front of my eyes.”

Even as he said those words, resolution settled inside him. No, he wouldn’t give up. There was no room for ifs. Steve would know their home again. Steve would sleep in their bed. He would fumble over cooking supplies in their kitchen. He would hold Ian in his arms. He would scream at Tony when they were a hall’s length apart. Kiss him clumsily in the mornings, and hungrily in the nights. It would happen. It _would_.

“I got bad news,” Maria said as she came in, her expression apologetic as she looked at Tony.

“I officially forbid these words in this exact order,” Tony said, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m _sick_ of bad news.”

Maria grimaced.

“Fine, what is it?”

“Vision sent me a message. Clint just left the tower… with Wanda and Pietro. They took a Quinjet. He tried to stop them, but they fought him off.”

A pause.

“So he really wants to see this through,” Tony mumbled. “Stubborn bastard.”

“You love him,” Pepper told him with a gentle voice, kneading his tense neck for a heavenly moment.

“No need to remind me,” he answered, huffing at himself. Steve could slam his shield down into his neck, and he would die with a fierce love in his heart. He was just that gone for him.

And yet…

Tony closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind. Something wasn’t quite right about all of this. That much he got. Something was up, that was why Steve had decided that fleeing was his only option, that he even had to call in reinforcements, and Tony just hadn’t figured it out yet.

He wouldn’t be doing all of this, if he didn’t have a good reason.

Rhodey sighed. “Well. I’m going get some coffee,” he offered.

Tony’s head flew up.

“Yeah, of course that gets you going,” Rhodey said, rolling his eyes fondly.

A few minutes later, the heavenly scent of coffee warmed the air. In his other hand, Rhodey carried a sandwich, and immediately, Tony’s stomach turned.

Rhodey gave him a look when he returned. “We need you strong now.” He shoved the plate into Tony’s hand, holding the coffee at arm’s length. “Eat. Then drink your coffee.”

Another sigh, this one of resignation. “Right,” he said, flexing his shoulders as he unpacked the sandwich. “Slave driver.”

He couldn’t, however, help the small smile when Rhodey flicked him off.

It were times like these that reminded Tony how very lucky he was to have these people as his friends.


	7. Worth Everything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I have apparently caught a flu that's planning to kill me real slow, so I'm sorry for slower updates. Hope you guys are still here for the rest of the story... This will be a dual-POV chapter.

 

**Tony | Steve**

 

“You know… I’m not sure you understand the concept of a getaway-car,” Sam said when he eyed the Beetle Steve had rented from a car shop nearby.

“It’s low profile,” Steve replied. The car was admittedly a bit smaller than Steve had thought, but it’d been the only model they could afford, so it had to do.

“Good,” Sam said. “‘cause this stuff tends to draw a crowd.”

Steve pulled his uniform top on. Everyone else was preparing for their drive to Leipzig as well—and the fight they might have to face there.

A van came to a squeaky halt, kicking up a dust cloud. Steve smiled when he saw Pietro and Wanda step up to them, Clint in tow.

“Glad you could make it,” he said.

There were steps behind them and Steve smiled at Scott as he got out of the van as well. Clint had called an hour ago, telling him that Scott had agreed to join their group. Apparently Sam knew him from a few months ago though he refused to go into detail. Still, Steve had a good feeling with him.

Ant-Man had been on the news before, but it hadn’t been clear whether or not Scott was a good guy. Sam, however, was clearly rooting for him, and in Steve’s book, that was enough.

“If we do this, there’s no going back,” he told the others, after a first greeting, then turned to Scott. “We’re outside the law on this one. So, if you come with us, you’re a wanted man.”

He knew that Scott did have a little daughter he cared dearly for, and Steve refused to bring him into a situation he hadn’t willingly agreed to.

Scott only smiled amusedly and waved him off. “Not exactly my first time.”

Steve had no idea if this should be consoling him. Probably not.

“Are you sure that’s the smartest move?” Bucky broke the silence as everyone took up various positions in the two cars. Sam shared the van with Wanda, Pietro and Scott, while Steve drove the Beetle with Clint and Bucky.

“It’s a little late to be rethinking things, isn’t?” Sam asked.

“A bit.” Clint’s bag rustled as he pulled out his bow on the backseat. “We weren’t prepared for the UN to insert itself into the team. But, Steve, I told you the others will have to be on the move to stop us and… don’t you think it’s a little naïve to hope Tony won’t know when we steal his Quinjet?”

“I don’t,” Steve said. “I know he’ll know.”

Clint sighed. “He won’t be able to ignore it either. They won’t let him. It’s not a question of what Tony wants to do and what he doesn’t.”

“I know.”

Clint eyed Steve. “And you’re sure you can handle that?”

He really wasn’t.

“We won’t hurt anyone,” Steve reasoned, mostly with himself. “We’ll have to try to get into the jet before they can stop us, that’s all that matters at that point.” Steve let his voice trail off, unwilling to put his personal fears into words, namely what would happen once they had to face off the others. If Tony really had gotten orders to imprison them, have them arrested or worse, Steve didn’t know what he would do. He obviously couldn’t _fight_ Tony, that much was clear. But he couldn’t let Ross throw them into a prison cell and watch how the world sank into chaos either.

So what then? Steve had no answers.

If he could only _talk_ to Tony in private, just a minute or two, without Ross monitoring them, he was sure they could find a way out of this mess together.

“We need to stop this guy from freeing the other Winter Soldiers,” he said eventually, coming up empty for now. “That’s our primary mission. Everything else has to be secondary.”

He wasn’t sure how to do that without doing at least some minor damage, and _hurting_ Tony… It felt like something foreign, something otherworldly.

“Well, if this is the result of Tony trying to work with the authorities,” Clint murmured, “I don’t want to know what happens once he’ll have to call a veto.”

“Shut it,” Bucky snapped. “Tony did what he had to and we just did the same thing.” Bucky waved off all of Clint’s objections and interruptions. “We don’t know what Ross told him. What things he asked of him. He might as well be working his ass off right now to keep things from getting worse.”

Steve blinked. It was weird to hear Bucky defending Tony, but he was glad he did. And he was right, too. They couldn’t know what was happening in New York right now.

“The Austrian government obviously sent a wetworks-team in Vienna.” Clint said as he leaned forward to look at Steve. “They had orders to kill Bucky, which didn’t work out so well. So—my lucky guess: Now Tony will have to do what they couldn’t.”

“Kill me?” Bucky asked.

“Bring you in,” both Steve and Clint said.

“So what?” Bucky said, “It’s not as if he will arrest Steve, too.”

“He will if it’s the better option,” Steve said, pinching his nose. “And I have a feeling that at this point, it might be.”

“They can’t do that.” Bucky’s features hardened, his eyes going unexpectedly cold as he looked at Steve. “This isn’t your fault. We're not going to let them do that, right?”

“No, we're not,” Steve said, sighing. “If I could talk to Tony, eye to eye, I’m sure he’d figure out a way to let us off the hook without the UN noticing.”

Clint frowned. He looked down at his phone, typed something into his messenger, then glanced out of the window. “There might be a way.”

Steve raised a surprised brow. “What way?”

Clint glanced at him, then shook his head. “Not sure yet, we’ll see. I have to make a few calls.”

Steve released a long breath, but decided it wouldn’t help much to needle Clint. They were a team, if Clint’d find out something that would help all of them, he’d share it soon enough.

Steve thought about all the reasons why they’d reached the decision they had, and how it was really the only course of action. The penal system had basically placed them all on international most wanted lists after his escape from Vienna. There stood a very real threat of them being eliminated on sight. Without a valid explanation for the terrorist attack in Vienna and coupled with the already existing lawsuit about the Winter Soldier’s actions, they wouldn’t withstand the scrutiny.

And Bucky likely wouldn’t survive it.

He couldn’t let that happen.

“Thanks for coming with us,” Steve told Clint after a moment. He’d only asked him to get Wanda and Pietro out of the tower, never to join them, but Clint hadn’t hesitated for so much as a moment.

“Sure thing,” Clint said, then sighed as he glanced at Steve. “But what about your family?”

“What about yours?” Steve shot back and already wanted to swallow his words down the next instant. It wasn’t fair, none of it. He stared off, then, not looking at any of them.

“It’s what we do,” Clint answered. “Laura made her peace with that long ago. And Tony will understand what you did once he finds out about Siberia. This is why we became a team in the first place, it’s our job to do what others can't. No matter the cost.”

“But what about all of your home?” Bucky added, quietly.

“ _Our_ home,” Clint corrected. “It’s yours as well.”

“We will get it back,” Steve said. He thought of Ian, and of Tony, and he knew it was the only option. “I promise.”

 

* * *

 

Quickly checking the corridor, Tony walked away from the UN’s executive offices, toward the research wing. Once there, he swiftly entered the storage room.

“Natasha?” His voice was soft, barely discernable in the musty air. Ten minutes ago, she had sent him a message to talk in private, and this had to be the right room. Apparently the only one without any cameras and microphones, though he made sure to double-check that right away.

No bugs. And no one was here, either.

“Great,” Tony murmured. He walked around the shelves, and stilled when he came face to face with a full board of beverages, including some bottles of liquor. It hadn’t been an issue in so long that Tony didn’t even feel that sudden yearning he’d once felt whenever he’d watched someone nip at a glass of wine. There was no itching in his fingers, no faster beating of his heart. He didn’t _need_ a glass of scotch.

But _fuck_ did he want it.

To just not wreck his brain over this mess for a few goddamn hours… it sounded heavenly.

So he reached for a bottle and looked down on the label for a long moment. It was even one of the better kind. It was tempting, so tempting, and at the same time, not an option.

Because of Ian.

“Put it down,” he heard a female voice say and turned around to look at Natasha. She stood in the shadows only a few steps away from him. Probably had the whole time.

“I wasn’t gonna,” he explained, and somehow, he deeply didn’t care if she believed him or not. What did it matter now anyway?

Natasha, however, only studied him for a moment, then nodded as if his word was the only thing that mattered to her. He really hadn’t gotten used to it yet. To Natasha trusting him. Or maybe he simply had trouble believing that he was worth her trust.

“You alright?” she asked.

“Always.”

“Come on. Over here,” she called and pulled him with her. Around a corner, next to another shelf, Rhodey sat in a chair.

“Won’t Ross suspect anything when we’re all suddenly gone?” Tony asked.

“Pepper is keeping him company.”

Tony paused, then huffed and let himself fall down on the chair next to Rhodey. “God help him.”

“Or not,” Rhodey said.

Tony grinned and nodded. “Or not.”

“Tony,” Natasha prompted. She raised her phone, and handed it to him. “you will want to see this.”

Tony looked down at the screen, saw pictures of a person’s NSA file. Only that he didn’t know the man.

“What am I looking at?”

“Priority upload from Vienna’s police,” Natasha explained. “Remember that when we decided to go to Peggy’s funeral, the UN called for a psychiatrist?”

“Yes?”

“Ask FRIDAY about him.”

Tony frowned, then tapped on the screen, and FRIDAY’s voice resounded. “The UN dispatched Dr. Theo Broussard from Geneva within a day after your request, boss. He was met by this man.”

Well, what a coincidence. Tony’s face darkened and a sinking feeling took hold of his insides.

“Did you run a facial recognition yet?”

“The fake doctor is Colonel Helmut Zemo. Sokovian intelligence. Zemo ran EKO Skorpion, a Sokovian covert kill squad.”

Sokovia. It kept coming back to bite him in the ass. But then again, it would’ve been naive to think he could just go on with his life after destroying a whole city. After thousands of people had lost their home. After so many had become widows, widowers, orphans, had lost their brothers or sisters, had lost whatever they’d held dear in life.

“So, what happened to the real Broussard?” Tony asked FRIDAY.

“He was found dead in a Berlin hotel room. The police also found a wig and facial prosthesis approximating the appearance of one James Buchanan Barnes.”

“Son of a bitch,” Tony breathed. His head was buzzing, white noise masking every other sound. He glanced at Natasha and saw what he’d already known he'd see. It had been foolish to believe this had been Bucky’s doing. “We gotta get this to Ross.”

“Yes,” Natasha agreed, though Tony knew there was a ‘but’ before she opened her mouth again. “Steve and James… they still hurt people. Ross wanted that leverage so he could force our hands and bring them in and… Tony, we can’t say no.”

“Steve’s not going to stop,” Tony said and pinched the skin between his eyes. “Whatever it is that has him do what he does, he won’t stop until he sees it through. What do you expect me to do? _Fight_ him?”

It was laughable. Horrible. And something he would never do.

“I just talked to a contact of mine,” Natasha said. “They’re heading towards Leipzig. To the airport.”

Tony heaved a breath and stood up, pacing back and forth. Steve knew he had stationed a Quinjet there.

“I still don’t get it. You said Steve would bring Bucky in. I know there’s the killing order, but if they turn themselves in willingly, they’ll get a fair trial. Steve knows that, doesn’t he? What is he playing at?” Rhodey asked, his eyes following Tony’s form, though he had addressed his question to Natasha. “Do you know?”

“No,” Natasha said on a sigh. “But I think we should try to give the others a chance to get out of town.” Natasha finally dared to broach the subject that had been on everyone’s mind for hours. “Hide them until we can get negotiations of the Accords underway. It will give us a different ground to work on.”

“Dammit Natasha, this is not…” Tony heaved a great breath. “It’s not about who we are right now, or who we are for each other. It’s about bringing them in before someone _shoots_ _them_ _in_ _the_ _head_.”

Natasha’s calmer voice broke through Tony’s visible agitation. “Yes, but if we publicly _fail_ to bring them in Ross won’t be so stupid to believe the army can do it. He’ll ask us to recuperate and try again. It would give us some time. Granted, not much, but we’d have time to come up with a plan.”

“There’s no way we’re prepared for this.” Rhodey watched while Tony resumed pacing. “We thought we had time before. That didn’t help.”

Tony stopped pacing again. “Risk’s too high. Ross isn’t stupid, and he’s monitoring my every move. The only way he’d believe we actually failed to arrest the others will be when we’re down for the count. If they miraculously fall off the radar now, they will cut me off, too. It’d be the end of the Avengers.” Tony’s voice softened and caught on a hitched breath. “Or is that what you want?”

“No.” Natasha moved closer. “You _know_ I don’t. But I can’t fight our teammates either, no matter the cause. I can’t fight James. Look at me and tell me you’re not gonna pull your punches if you have to face Steve.”

Tony met Natasha’s intent gaze. “If the Avengers are over, the world might very well end when the next alien army decides to attack us. I love Steve, you know I do, but he would agree that the world’s safety always has to come first. Ian is part of this world, and he’s more important to me than anyone else.” His voice shook, he knew that, but his words weren’t any less genuine. “I wasn’t counting on you to join us in the first place. Frankly, I’m surprised you’re still here at all and not with Barnes. I won’t force you to stay.”

Natasha sighed. “I’m here because this is where I’m needed. I’m not on your side on this. And I’m not on Steve’s.”

Tony could feel his body stiffen, the lines of his muscles going rigid and inflexible.

It was Rhodey who broke the spell surrounding them. “So let me get this straight: We potentially have both the UN and Steve’s team to contend with. If we stop Steve’s team, they will all go to jail. And if we don’t stop them, there might be no more superheroes altogether.”

Tony huffed a laugh, then broke out into a series of shrill giggles.

“Tony,” Natasha said evenly.

“Sorry,” he hiccupped. “Sorry, just— _Steve’s team_ , we have teams now, I… I can’t—”

There were arms around him and oh _fuck_ , he really was about to lose it. Rhodey was pulling him near, bracing his head on his chest, and Tony concentrated really hard on the steady beating of Rhodey’s heart so he wouldn’t lose his damn mind completely and veer off right into a panic attack.

A phone rang.

“Romanov,” Natasha said, and there was a very soft and very calm male voice on the other side.

Definitely Bruce.

“Tony wants to meet them at the airport. Bring them all in,” Natasha told him.

Now the voice was drastically less calm.

“Turn on the speakers,” Tony prompted, because what the hell, it didn’t even matter anymore who was angry at him and why.

Natasha pressed her thumb on the screen, then turned the phone around so Tony and Rhodey could see the video feed.

“Locate and contain?” Bruce echoed, voice bathed in worry. “I thought we’d decided we’d try to—”

“Yes,” Tony snapped. “But the UN has a slightly different opinion. The second Steve dragged Barnes out of Vienna, almost killing men from the GSG9, the UN decided to eradicate them on sight, given the chance. This was my only veto option.”

“But that’s not what we will do. Not what we decide,” Natasha objected. “Is it?”

Rhodey tossed her a sympathetic glance. He was wringing his fingers nervously. “Doesn’t matter. Don’t really think the UN cares what we decide. If we fail to bring them in, they’ll try to arrest them on their own. And that might not end well.”

Bruce hesitated. “Do we at least know where they are now?” he asked. “If we have a location…”

“They should’ve crossed the border by now,” Natasha replied. “They’re heading for Leipzig Airport.”

“If your information is correct,” Tony added. “Who’s your contact, by the way?”

Natasha gave him a steely look. “Someone I trust.”

“Yeah? Seems to me half the people I know have turned out to be cunning bastards and we don’t know where anyone stands right now.”

Bruce winced. “Tony.”

“Even so,” Natasha said, “we have a lead, which is more than I can say for where we stood a few hours ago.” She sighed. “Tony, you know Steve better than anyone. He’s onto something, and we’re too busy with the Accords to see it. Whatever it is, we have to help him.”

“There is effectively _no goddamn way_ to help him,” Tony snapped. “He made that impossible! I can’t be seen helping him, or I’m cut off—for good. We’d all be fugitives, and I have a _son_ now. I can’t do it!”

“Tony,” Bruce called with his typical hushed composure. “I have a really bad idea.” A beat when that merited no reaction other than deepened stares. “But I think it might work.”

Tony huffed, waving a hand. “Well then,” he answered. “Do enlighten us.”

Bruce cleared his throat. “Some of you aren’t going to like it,” he warned. “Okay, all of you aren’t going to like it.”

“Worth a try,” Rhodey reasoned with a shrug. It was difficult not to notice the sudden tension wringing his figure to definitive stillness.

Natasha arched a brow. “How bad are we talking?”

“It involves me being used as leverage.”

That was it. End of discussion. Tony shook his head. “No.”

“Tony,” Bruce said gently. “You only have to tell Ross that I went rogue. That way, I’ll be top priority for his team, and while your two groups face off alone, I’ll be keeping them busy. You’ll have to make the others see that we’re not really there to fight them. That we’re just staging this. You’ll talk to Steve, let him get away, and follow him after.” He took a deep breath, and looked at Tony with a small smile. “You know it best: There’s nothing Ross likes more than getting his hands on me. He wants some prime example for his movement. He lost James, he lost Wanda, and after Wakanda, I’m the perfect guy for the job.”

“Which is exactly why you’re not going to be sacrificed,” Natasha all but snapped. Tony knew she was very protective towards Bruce. He had never managed to ask her why, but he figured it had something to do with her knowing exactly how hard it was to have others make decisions for you.

“I gotta agree, Bruce,” Tony said. “It was hard enough to keep them from turning you in after Wakanda. We’re already short a few team-members. I can’t lose you, too.”

“Listen, I appreciate that you worry, but really—and to both reiterate _and_ state the more than obvious—we’re running out of time.”

“I don’t wanna see you hurt,” Tony said softly. “Don’t get me wrong, I’d do anything to get Steve and the others out, but if you attack Ross’ men, I—”

Bruce shook his head. “You seriously think that since I’ve joined the team I’ve lived a single day not knowing what I might eventually have to do? That I might get imprisoned for being who I am? For things the Hulk did? Granted, I really hadn’t thought it might involve a few rogue Avengers—but I can do this. I’m ready to play my part.”

“No,” Natasha said shortly. The tenure of her voice suggested anything but reason. As though her word verified the end of all discussion and a motion to move to the next suggestion. “We have no idea if we can get you out after.”

Bruce’s gaze narrowed as he considered Natasha. “Tasha,” he said gently. “There isn't exactly a long list of options. We need a distraction, and I can be very distractive. I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it for a long time.” He pointed a finger to Tony. “And you ought to know me well enough by now to guess that whatever you say is not going to work. I’m not worried. You’ll get me out after. You’re Tony Stark.”

Tony shuffled uncomfortably, the weight that was suddenly planted on his shoulders bearing down on him. “You’re putting a lot on faith, here.”

“I am,” Bruce stated, “because I trust you. Completely.”

Natasha made a noise of discomfort and turned away.

“If we let everyone get away…” Rhodey mused, “it will seem suspicious.”

Bruce shook his head. “Ross will have me, it’ll make him feel victorious, trust me.”

“No, James is right,” Natasha said. “We can’t let them all leave. Better to focus on Steve, it’s important to find out what is going on. We’ll just have to see who we can get out with him.”

“Not sure how we can get through this by fake-fighting them,” Rhodey said, his voice thoughtful. “Especially if _they_ don’t know we’re not supposed to kill each other.”

“I’ll try to be as monstrous as I can,” Bruce supplied with a smile. “Make for a good distraction. Then you can tell them.”

Tony sighed, gaze not swaying from the brunette. There was a glow of reverent awe bursting through his heart. “When on earth did you become so noble, Brucey?”

“Having a family changes people. And our little guy needs his parents.” A determined breath sounded through his lips as his gaze locked on Tony. “It was you who made me realize that I’m still _me_ whenever I’m _him_. You made me believe that the Hulk isn’t just a green rage monster, that what happened to me might’ve happened because the Hulk was needed. So let me do this now. I’m going to be struggling too much for Ross to be able to do much with the others,” Bruce continued, gaze focused on Tony. “And you’ll have to try not to be obvious about helping them. No swoon eyes for either of you.” He pointed at Tony, then Natasha. “Then you can get Steve outta there.”

“Bruce… that could go so wrong,” Natasha whispered and the tone of her voice was a perfect reflection of what Tony felt: Awe, and a deep gratitude. “If you attack them, they’ll go all out on you.”

“The Hulk can take a lot, and… it’s worth it.” He glanced to Natasha briefly. His expression didn’t allow any objections. “ _We_ , and what we do, it’s worth it.”

“Yeah,” Rhodey agreed hotly.

Bruce glanced wordlessly out of the window. It looked as if he sat in Tony’s and his shared workshop. “You know… You, Tony, and Steve, you both have a point. We can’t go on like this, but we can’t let ourselves be put on a leash either. So tricking Ross into believing he’s in control while we really solve the problem at hand… maybe that’s the compromise we’ll have to deal with for a while.”

Tony followed his gaze. “You really gotta stop meditating. It’s making you wise.” He sighed. “Thirty-six hours, jeez. If we want to make this look real… we’re seriously understaffed.” Suddenly, something occurred to him. “I have an idea.”

“Me too,” Natasha said.

“What’s yours?”

A pleased smile rose to Natasha’s lips. “Downstairs.”

“What’s yours?”

Tony smiled, as well.

The note that settled over the room as they took their leave was carefully optimistic at best. And Tony—he had to cling to the good memories. The way Steve’s skin felt under his touch. The way he’d tasted when they’d last kissed. The way he’d looked when he’d first laid eyes on Ian.

It was time then. He would get Steve out of there, and then they could deal with the aftermath. No matter what it took. No matter the cost.

Even if it was everything.

Bruce was right. They were worth it.


	8. Fight The End

 

**Tony**

 

In his head, like a badly cut Western film, Tony saw himself, saw Natasha and Rhodey and Vision and Clint and Sam. He saw Steve, with his stupid aura of heroism. Saw Wanda and Pietro and a too young Peter Parker and the Ant-Guy and Barnes. He saw T’Challa, who had willingly joined their side after Tony had given him Zemo’s file. And he saw a good three dozen US marines with heavy artillery who only waited for Ross’ signal to join the fight.

He saw them all in his mind, as they stood there on the deserted airport like the opening of an overly dramatic musical show, and wondered how the hell they got here. Weeks ago most of them had lazed around at the tower, bickering over movies, giving foot rubs to random people and arguing over who took the last beer out of the fridge.

And now this. This horror. Tony almost couldn’t stand the thought.

A kid like Peter Parker clearly didn’t belong here, and when Tony had sat down in his tiny room, he’d been a second from dropping his idea to recruit Spider-Man for the fight. But then the guy had talked about responsibility and doing what’s right, and dammit, Tony recognized true potential when he saw it.

And, well, he was also really desperate.

Which left him here, scared shitless that Parker or one of the others would, for some reason, not make it out of here. And that it’d be on him.

Both of their teams stood at the mouth of the airport. Steve was staring at him with an unreadable expression, and the others looked equally confused.

“It’s so weird how you run into people at the airport,” Tony called over to them, because he had to say _something_. “Don’t you just feel weird? Definitely weird.”

“You’ve been busy,” Steve commented with a nod towards T’Challa and Peter. “Didn’t we say no more strays?”

It used to be an inside joke between them, Tony thought with a pang of sadness, and he saw Steve’s mouth instinctively quirking into a fleeting half-smile before he wrestled it down.

This… this would be every bit as painful as Tony had expected it to be.

“Says you,” Tony said. “Dragging in Clint. Dragging Wanda and Pietro from a place they didn’t even want to leave. I’m trying to keep... I’m trying to keep you from tearing the Avengers apart.”

Steve’s expression turned disbelieving at that. “Do you really think I’d want that? Tony, you gotta listen… That doctor, the psychiatrist that accompanied us to London, he's behind all of this. He isn’t who we thought he was. And there are five more Winter Soldiers he’s trying to set free. We can't let him find them.”

A beat of silence. Steve’s blue eyes were large, his gaze intense. Willing Tony to believe him.

And he did. How could he not? He had known something was going on, and it made sense that the Zemo guy hadn’t just wanted to blackmail Bucky. There were larger things at play.

A not too-small part of him was bathed in relief that all of this mess had just been the outcome of something that had been beyond all of their control. But then again, it wouldn’t change much of anything.

The consequences would be the same.

For a moment, he asked himself if contacting Ross might be an option, make this an official mission, but he knew in his heart that the UN would never trust them enough after the Vienna fiasco to just let them go now and ask questions later. And if what Steve had said was true, they couldn’t spare any time.

The gears in Tony’s head started turning. So they had to follow through with their plan, it was the only option. Get Steve out of here, and stop Zemo from freeing those soldiers.

“Whatever it is you think you have to do,” Tony told Steve’s team, “you can run it by the UN once we’re home.” It was complete bullshit, of course, but exactly what Ross would want to hear.

“Tony…” Steve said, then, with a pained sort of undertone. “I can’t do that.”

“Right. Well then, this is how it goes,” Tony announced, loud enough that even Ross’ guys would be hearing him. Of course, it wasn’t exactly necessary since they were monitoring their comms, too. “You’re gonna turn Barnes over and you’re gonna come with us.”

Inside his earpiece, there was white static, then he heard one of the marines’ team leaders ordering everyone to get ready for action.

Steve’s expression visibly fell. He remained silent, but he _did_ pull the shield from his back holder.

Yeah, they were really gonna fight this out, Tony thought with not too-little despair. They _had_ to fight, or it might very well be the end for everything they’d built. Tony could only hope he’d find an opportunity to talk to Steve and explain the situation before anyone got hurt.

“If that’s how it is, you’re not leaving me any other option,” Tony said. He looked at Natasha, then at Rhodey, then closed Iron Man’s helmet. He took a deep breath, and gave himself a running start before he rushed into the sky.

Tony shot his repulsors at random, really, charging right into the fray.

_Fray_. What a lovely word for what was happening here.

Everyone came together, with fists or weapons, and soon enough, chaos broke loose. Tony couldn’t exactly miss his targets, but his moves were predictable at best, and they’d trained together long enough that he could be sure the others would find a way to dodge his beams.

Tony pointedly didn’t rush at Steve, and Steve didn’t try to fight him either. Which was good. As long as Ross had his team watching his every move, there was no way to talk to him.

The first thing that hit him was a punch from the now-tiny Ant-Guy. It felt as if it sliced all the way to Tony’s spine, both knocking the metaphoric wind out of his body and rendering him momentarily dazed, and therefore unprepared for the follow-up kick. Tony had to give the newbie kudos. He really knew how to make it hurt.

So much for stage-fighting.

“ _Ow_ ,” he exhaled, limping, his camera focusing on the tiny man, “that was uncalled for. See how I’ll ever buy my kid those Ant-Man rompers.”

“Your betrothed told me what’s at stake. This isn’t a game.”

“Sure it is,” Tony replied and shot a repulsor as a distraction, followed by a small-caliber rocket. “It’s a game. And we’re all losing.”

Ant-Man frowned, and yelped as the rocket hit him. It catapulted his re-sized form right into Peter’s hands, who immediately webbed him to the ground.

“Good job, Junior,” Tony called.

“Thanks, Mr. Stark!”

Tony stared down at Ant-Man. He really didn’t want to be responsible for hurting a potential future-teammate. There were certain things political disagreements couldn’t eradicate, and the connection he felt with his friends was among them.

If Steve thought that Scott Lang was a good guy, Tony would hopefully call him a friend one day, too.

No one else out there could possibly understand the loneliness and fear that came with getting out of bed every morning—none save the other people who had risked their lives at his side. Tony didn’t want to hurt anyone, but as the minutes ticked by, it was becoming more and more difficult to avoid it.

“Uhh, Mr. Sta—!” Peter called, then yelped, as he was picked up by Sam, who flew him to somewhere on the other side of the airport.

Tony rolled his eyes. He set a target on Sam and followed. “You know,” Tony said conversationally, spiraling in place and landing a kick in the man’s side that sent him flying back to the ground. He caught Peter in his arms and waited till he had swung himself back into the fight. “I don’t understand why you couldn’t just stay out of this. I didn’t go out of my way to piss you off. We—”

“Letting someone push their agenda on your case isn’t going to help people in the long run, Tony.”

Tony rolled his eyes, and sighed. It was a useless debate; one he and Steve had entertained several times before. And Sam clearly was thinking very much alike his best friend. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but that’s just… oh, what’s the word… bullshit. You still don’t get what’s going on here.”

“We only want what’s best for the team,” Sam shot back.

“I think today proves you don’t.”

Sam’s expression suddenly shifted and he barreled forward without warning. For a moment, Tony thought he’d hit him, what with the way his eyes had widened and he had exhaled a sharp gasp. However, the next second, he pulled both arms around Tony’s chest and dragged him off to the side. Sam had used a bit too much power with his own repulsors, and together, they crashed into a nearby wall.

Tony stared up at him in confusion, before he looked sideways. The Hulk had apparently just made his big entrance and thus knocked over a giant air-stair. And it had landed right where Tony had stood.

It wouldn’t have killed him, but the sentiment was very clear.

“Uh, thanks?” Tony asked, then frowned. “You realize we’re supposed to fight each other?”

Sam huffed. “Are you kidding me? Steve would beat me seven ways from Sunday if I’d let you get hurt.”

That was—that was just… Tony snorted. So much for planning to tell everyone to pull their punches. In the distance, he spotted Pietro ever-so-subtly dragging Peter out of the way before Clint’s arrow could hit him—though Tony was pretty sure it would’ve missed by a few inches, anyway. Bucky and Natasha were doing their weird martial arts-dance, but to Tony, it mostly looked like they were a second from making out. And whatever it was that Wanda and Vision were doing at the far end of the runway, it looked impressive, but they sure as hell weren’t fighting to kill.

It seemed they were all refraining from going all out, and it had Tony smile.

They were a _team_. They were _friends_. Even now.

As if the Hulk had decided to counteract his thoughts, a wild green fist flew toward Tony’s face and was quickly deflected and countered with a swipe from Natasha’s legs, as she rushed at him.

“Thanks,” Tony called after her, and seized the opportunity to leap away the next second, but the situation around him was quickly spiraling out of control.

They needed to bring this to an end soon.

The Hulk looked far more enraged, and far more violent than Tony had ever seen him before. If the others would only have half the mind to pay attention to him, they’d know that Bruce was faking it. The fact that he was able to control the Hulk like this was making Tony insanely proud, but he guessed that didn’t quite matter right now.

With the Hulk’s help, every confrontation became sloppier, and though there was a sizable part of him enjoying the thrill, it was damn difficult to avoid hurting someone.

He vaguely heard Ross ordering the marines to get the Hulk out of the picture, and on the next beat, the men were rushing in.

Tony winced when the HUD listed the kinds of weapons they were unleashing on Bruce, but he knew the Hulk could take it. And just as Bruce had promised, Ross’ focus was now kind of single-minded.

Another arrow flew towards him. It missed by half a millimeter, though in Clint’s book, that was a lot. “Would you stop it?” Tony snapped. Clint was obviously trying to keep him away from Steve, and if this had been a real fight, Tony would have been kind of grateful that he didn’t need to fight his husband, but right now, it was just really fucking annoying.

“Yeah, we kinda can’t,” Clint drawled, though it was clear just how much out of breath he truly was.

“I taught your kid about Marshmallows,” Tony pointed out. “Doesn’t that count for anything?”

Clint snorted. “He’s kinda obsessed with them now, so… no.”

Another arrow; Tony ducked gracefully, and instead threw back a kick that landed Clint on the ground.

“Fine,” Tony said, snapping his repulsors, “For the record: You started it.”

“Duly noted,” Clint said and reached behind himself.

There was no time to think. Tony dodged an arrow—one he had designed, _goddammit_ —, but overbalanced, and fell. Frantically, he shot upwards, the repulsor skittering off of an armored chest. The shots Sam fired at him clang against his armor, the sound of it ringing out like a bell.

“Fuck,” Tony ground out as he realized one of Clint’s EMP-arrows had hit his power transmitters. There was still plenty to keep the suit running, though. Shaking off his stupor, Tony saw Vision at the other end of the battlefield, still fighting Wanda, and it didn’t look like either of the two would be getting the upper hand soon.

This might just be the most polite battle in history. Safe only for the Hulk, who really lived up to his ‘Green Rage Monster’ nickname for once with the way he kept the marines busy.

When Tony turned around, he spotted Vision staring his way.

_I got notice of an aircraft hovering nearby. You will want to tell Steve soon,_ Vision told him via their encrypted private line.

What Tony _wanted_ was a drink. What Tony _did_ , was smearing some oily fluid that was leaking out of his chest plate with the back of his gauntlet. Sam had apparently also hit his cooling system. Lovely. _What aircraft?_

_I don’t have a confirmation yet, but the stealth system has your signature and the only plane of that size would be Phillip Coulson’s._

Oh great. That was just— _so_ great. Another party guest.

Steve’s knight in shiny suit-shaped armor, to the rescue.

_Seen him, Vis? Steve?_

_He’s closing in on the hangar. My sensors say he’s only waiting to make his move now._

Tony took a deep, unnecessary breath. He’d really kill for a drink. Knowing there was no way to win was cruel. The only way to get to Steve was to fight him. “Alright.”

There was no time to spare for hesitation anymore.

Tony was just preparing to go looking for his dearest husband, when suddenly, an inhuman sound split the air somewhere above him. Tony looked up just in time to see the Ant-Guy morph to a very giant-fucking-sized Ant-Guy. The appearance was baffling to Tony to the point where he could only open-mouthed stare.

His first thought: Cool gadget. Something to very much look into later.

His second thought: I really don’t have time for this shit.

Tony swung a repulsor at Giant-Guy, putting all of his considerable force into the shot, and had the satisfaction of seeing the Ant almost topple to the earth, bellowing in frustration.

He grimaced when he spotted the burn-mark on the guy’s leg, but there was nothing to be done about it. He needed to get past.

Big-Ant-Guy, however, proved frustratingly strong. There was no way he was relying on natural strength—his suit had to be a marvel in itself and Tony had some vague memory that he’d seen blueprints of this, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. The process of size alteration had to generate huge amounts of physical force and momentum, which would be scaled beyond that of normal humans. In any case, he paid Tony back every punch. Every kick. Every anything Tony threw at him to finally get to Steve. It was damned irritating, and had T’Challa and Rhodey not swept in and taken him by surprise Tony might have been a puddle on the ground by now.

As it was, T’Challa took over and it gave Tony the moment to look at the scene he needed. Steve had almost made it to the hangar, dammit. If he left now, Tony might never find out where he was going.

_Junior_ , Tony said on the comm-line. _Keep them from reaching the Quinjet. Be right behind you._

There was a woosh in the air, as Spider-Man swung by. _Sure, Mr. Stark._

_But remember what I told you—_

_Handle them with kid gloves. Got it._

On his way over to Steve, his head butted hard with Sam’s chest, rendering the man completely unprepared to block Natasha’s kick to his face.

When Bucky rushed at him, swinging a blade out of his sleeve, Tony barely blinked. He ducked, rolled, and ducked again. He knocked Bucky to the floor with a quick sweep of his legs, and sent him staggering into the next wall when he tried to get up.

Tony flinched in surprise, however, when Ant-Guy was suddenly right behind him. He shot a repulsor blast at him, but the guy ducked and it shot straight towards Clint instead. The beam pierced straight through the air, and hit Clint’s arm.

“Sorry!” Tony blurted before he could help himself. He heaved a sigh of relief when he realized it only was a minor burn mark.

“You almost got me with that!” Clint said, scandalized.

“Well, you should’ve stayed home!”

“Aw, come on.” Clint grinned cheekily at him, tossing shaggy blond hair out of his eyes. “I’ve survived worse. Do you really think I could just sit at home and let you have all the fun? There wouldn’t be much point in reflooring our sunroom if the world ends before I get it done.”

Tony grinned, couldn’t help himself. “You know… Laura will be so very pissed that I shot your balls off,” he said, then shot a pointed repulsor at Clint’s crotch, but it was too predictable, and Clint had no problem jumping out of the way.

Soon enough, he had the upper hand. Clint was an awesome fighter, Tony had to give him that. But FRIDAY had studied all of his moves for years. He knew how Clint operated, and eventually, he had him pinned down on the ground.

The little Parker, however, wasn’t having the same luck with Steve. They fought right in front of the hangar, with Peter trying very hard to keep Steve from reaching the Quinjet, and Steve obviously trying very hard not to hurt Peter and still get him to back off. When Parker scrambled back to his feet following a not-that-powerful kick from Steve, Tony made a quick decision.

“Switch!” he yelled, dropping to the ground.

Spider-Man didn’t hesitate. He jumped over Tony’s back and was on his feet just in time to send the newly shrunken Ant-Man into the wall again.

Tony barely noticed. His chest heaved, sweat stung his eyes, and Steve was in front of him. And then everything stopped. _Everything_. He blinked, and time slowed down, stretched, until one second seemed to contain the entire universe.

At last, though the chaotic world swirled around them, they were alone. He was alone with Steve—no, not his Steve, but Captain America. And yet, he needed to know if _his_ Steve truly would go all-out with this. He had been so certain he wouldn’t, but now he questioned himself.

_Oh baby, how the hell did we get here_ , Tony thought to himself. Before he could get a word out, however, Steve let his shield sink. Just a fraction, but it was there.

“I can’t fight you,” he said, quietly but no less definite.

“Then drop your shield,” Tony said, knowing full well that he wouldn’t. “It’s the only way to end this.”

Steve vehemently shook his head, and the moment that followed stretched forever. Steve was panting almost as hard as he was, studying him intently. And Tony couldn’t look away, willing Steve to understand. The ground on which he stood trembled beneath his feet.

He just needed to get close enough, activate a short blackout in the comm-line, and hope Steve would believe him before he needed to get back online. Ten seconds, fifteen tops, anything else would seem suspicious.

“The only way,” Steve echoed, his voice carefully blank. He slowly turned to face the hangar, paused, then glanced back to Tony. “If that’s how it is.”

Tony braced himself. Physically and mentally. “It is. Show me what you got.”

Steve set into motion, and Tony forced his suit into the air to meet Steve in the middle, wondering what he was thinking of in that moment.

When they met, Tony didn’t move fast enough to counter Steve’s attack. He had him in a stranglehold within seconds, not allowing Tony any room to move, and then, he was raising his shield in the air. At first, Tony had a panicked moment to think Steve would actually punch him, but it was a strange movement, much more a signal than one of Steve’s typical attack moves and Tony didn’t know what to make of it until there was an indiscernible shock wave vibrating through the air.

And then everything was quiet. He didn’t hear Ross yelling commands anymore, didn’t hear his team talk, didn’t hear anything. The comm was down.

Huh. A blackout he hadn’t caused, that was… that was actually just what he’d needed.

Tony glanced into the air briefly. There was a flickering in the sky, an almost invisible outline of a plane.

_Coulson._ Tony huffed, genuinely surprised. He hadn’t expected that. And it was actually a bit funny, that in the midst of it all, they had both searched for a way to simply talk to each other. “Was that—”

“We need to talk,” Steve said, and his stance had already eased a little, though his hold on Tony was unwavering. “You need to listen to me.”

Steve’s arms were locked around Tony like a vice, the HUD’s data making it clear that Tony would need to put a really huge amount of power into his repulsors to get away.

“Did you know that I invented that jammer?” Tony asked with a glance at the sky.

“Tony, dammit, _listen to me_!”

“I _am_ , and I get it. Zemo’s playing us. You gotta go, and I’m gonna help you. You just have to tell me where you’re headed.”

Steve’s hold on him faltered. He stared at him, and though it took him a moment to grasp Tony’s words, the relief was bright and all-consuming.

“What?”

“I can’t do this officially, but I’ll let you get to that Quinjet. You gotta do it alone, or Ross will cut us off for good. Leave the others behind. I’ll come after you with reinforcements.”

It didn’t take long for Steve to put two and two together. So he jumped the obvious question, and came right to the point. “If I let you take Bucky, he’ll be put away for good.”

Tony sighed. He couldn’t deny it. “Fine. Take Bucky. No one else. Tell your team to drop their weapons.”

“But…”

“You can get them out later. I’ll help you, but for now, you gotta leave them behind. And you don’t have much time. Give me the coordinates.”

Steve’s eyes searched him, and though the Iron Man mask couldn’t give anything away, it still felt as if Steve was trying to read him. “Bruce… was that your idea?”

“No, it was his. Steve, you gotta—”

“Promise we’ll get him out. That we’ll get them _all_ out. You can’t let Ross dig his fingers into them.”

Tony heaved a big breath. “I promise. Ross got that new fancy prison, but I’ll find a way.”

Steve nodded, taking his word for what it was, before his eyes momentarily flickered to the side. On the HUD, Tony saw Bucky running for them, and he heaved a low breath.

“The coordinates, Steve. Come one.”

“He’s heading for Siberia,” Steve said, then dictated him the coordinates. FRIDAY automatically calculated a flight route, forwarding it to the Quinjet in the hangar.

“We should get moving,” Steve said.

“We should keep fighting. Ross has his eyes on us,” Tony said and took a swing to get out of Steve’s grip. Then, he toppled Steve to the ground. “Ready?” he asked.

Steve’s gaze lingered, and he might or might not have squeezed Tony’s gauntlet before raising himself to his feet. “Ready. Tony—”

“I know, believe me, I do. Now _go_.”

Perhaps, all in all, it wasn’t so surprising that they reached a unanimous decision without saying a word. They _had_ been married for quite some time, after all. They turned on the same note, falling into a quick stride toward the hangar—Steve running, Tony pretending to chase him and Bucky hot on their heels.

Tony ignored the half-questioning looks Natasha fired their way. Nothing seemed to matter at that point—nothing save for collecting their mutual people and getting as far away from each other as possible to figure out what the hell had happened. To get to neutral ground until they’d see each other again.

“Later,” Steve said shortly, tossing Tony another quick glance as he hauled a confused Bucky with him. “I’ll see you later.”

Tony’s heart leapt. “Later,” he agreed.

He watched Steve and Bucky running towards the hangar. He shot a few repulsors after them for good measure, all of them missing by a few inches. His concentration faltered only as Wanda’s magic delivered him to the laws of gravity and he was thrown to the floor below.

A gasp tore out of his throat when he realized he hadn’t been the only one following Steve. He had been too preoccupied to even consider the possibility that the marines would take it upon themselves to stop them from escaping.

“ _NO_ —” he yelled when he saw them, then glanced up just in time to see Wanda’s magic shattering what appeared to be the ground level of an old control tower. She let it fall to the side and Tony watched in horror as Steve staggered and both he and Bucky hurtled into the last space beneath it. Debris crashed, and then it was over. The marines couldn’t follow them, which had been Wanda’s plan, probably, but now Tony wasn’t sure if Steve and Bucky made it to the other side.

Spider-Man had managed to wrap up Ant-Man, while Vision, Rhodey and Natasha were keeping the others in check. In the distance, Tony saw a de-Hulked Bruce getting shackled by Ross’ men. He looked terrible, his skin full of ashes, but when he caught Tony looking, he cast him a small smile.

Tony kind of hated himself for all of this, but he’d get him—and all of the others—out soon. He had to.

For now, it was what was needed.

Tony managed to keep to his feet for a moment, while the world blurred and faded in a haze. He watched with a great deal of relief as the Quinjet ascended from the hangar’s rooftop, and rushed through the sky. The marines clearly had noticed, but there was nothing they could do at that point.

Behind them, the hangar was going up in flames. Spider-Man was quickly ushering everyone out, but Tony couldn’t move. Steve was currently carting his best friend to safety, and all in all, everything had worked out as they had planned. Everyone had made it out. They could stop Zemo from doing whatever it was he wanted to do. They could save the world once more, whether it wanted to be saved or not.

It still felt anything but a victory. Because when all of this was over, Steve would have to leave them.

And there was nothing Tony could do about it.


	9. An Equal Failing

 

**Steve**

 

“He can’t have been here more than an hour,” Steve told Bucky as they made their way through the Siberian cave.

Bucky sighed next to him as he let his gaze wander over the walls of the dark corridors. Steve had no idea what kinds of memories were going through his head right now, but they surely weren’t nice ones.

“Long enough to wake them up,” he eventually said.

Steve nodded. That much was true. He wasn’t sure when Tony would arrive, but they couldn’t wait forever. For all he knew, Zemo could’ve already woken up those five soldiers, and they had to take them out before they could leave.

It was freezing cold and the battle still weighed heavily on Steve’s mind. The scenes were on constant replay and he tried to figure out if anyone had gotten hurt in their short standoff. God, he hoped not. With the Hulk and the military joining the battle, things had gotten out of control so quickly. He knew that had been Tony’s plan—to give Steve an opportunity to flee, but it still had been a dangerous gambit.

He’d known, from the start, that something had been off in the way Tony’s team had attacked them. It _looked_ real enough, but Steve had personally trained each and every one of them and they were obviously not going all out the way they could.

And Steve’s team—well, he had told everyone not to hurt anybody either, and thus, it seemed, they had made it through the day without any casualties.

“You ready?” Steve asked.

It would be five against two, not counting Zemo himself. Not exactly a fair fight if what Bucky had told him about their strength was true, but then again, he and Bucky had fought so many battles together, that had to count for something.

“Yeah,” Bucky said.

A door in front of them suddenly opened. Or… it wasn’t opening, someone _shoved_ it open. And in the darkness, Steve spotted Iron Man’s angry eyes. For the first time since meeting Tony, he raised his shield in defense.

“At ease,” Tony’s robotic voice resounded, and Steve heaved a breath of relief when Tony reached for his helmet and pulled it off. There were a few bad cuts and hematomas on his face, but otherwise, he seemed to be physically fine.

He wanted to rush forward then, cradle Tony against his chest and kiss all bruises away, but Tony held up a hand in a gesture to stop right there.

“Tony…”

He shook his head, his expression one of a Million emotions, and most of them not good. “Not now.”

Steve sighed, but nodded. “Did everyone make it?”

“Yeah, looks like it,” Tony said, and Steve heaved a low breath of relief. “But now we need to get this psycho out of the picture. You said it was five of them?”

“Yes,” Bucky replied. “As far as I remember.”

Tony nodded. After that, the walk through the basement was a nearly silent one. They walked through many corridors, and there was no one to be seen. Several times Steve glanced over at Tony, hoping to draw some sort of response from him, but he never even looked back. He seemed uneasy in his company, which he never had been, and more than a little annoyed with him.

“Shouldn’t we get this out of the way first?” he asked eventually. Because, anything—screaming, crying—was better than Tony’s cold silence.

Tony came to a stop so abruptly, he almost passed him by. “What, you want to tell me you have no idea why I’m upset?” he demanded.

“I know _why_ , but you also have to understand why I’m doing this.” He made a vague motion in the direction their surroundings. “This is proof why we need to do what we do.”

In that moment, Tony looked ready to pull his hair out. And yet, Steve had no trouble to still see his love, his devotion, and he needed to concentrate on that.

“It’s not about the Accords!” Tony suddenly hissed it so fiercely Steve took a step back in surprise. “All of this, it wrecked everything! Don’t you get it? You’ll have to _leave_ us—”

“I won’t leave you!”

“God damn it, Steve. I don’t think Ross’ standpoint changed much on the short flight over. You don’t get a say whether or not you’ll have to leave. You stay, you and Bucky will go to _prison_.” He heaved a deep breath, obviously trying to calm himself down.

“I agreed to work with you on the Accords,” Steve urged.

“You did,” Tony agreed quietly. “But it won’t be enough, at least not right now. Let’s be honest here, you had our finger on self-destruct the whole time, and you pushed it when you dragged Bucky out of Vienna. And now we’ve reached a dead end.” He sighed, then glanced at Bucky. “No offense. I’m glad you’re not dead.”

Bucky stilled, then smiled a bit tensely. “Thanks.”

Without Steve even realizing it, they had reached the division of the ways.

“I got heat signatures,” Tony told them.

“How many?”

“Uh… one.”

“ _One_?” Steve asked on a frown. This felt very wrong. Felt too much like a set-up.

Tony held up a hand to stop them for a moment, putting his helmet back on. And even though his face wasn’t visible, Steve still could see the tension in his movements.

If they both didn’t make it out of here...

Steve shook his head, refusing to think about this. Ian would keep both of his parents. He would.

“We’ll make it,” he told Tony. “Whatever he comes up with, we’re a team.”

Iron Man’s head cocked to the side slightly. “We are,” he agreed.

The room that followed was dark. The only things visible were five dimly lit tanks, and on the far ceiling there was some kind of vertical tunnel leading out of the complex.

Steve didn’t have to look too closely to see that the tanks had been emptied. The liquid was halfway gone, pooled on the floor in front of them, but the figures inside the tanks were clearly… dead. Their slumped bodies half drifted in the water, half leaned against the glass containers. As far as he could see, there were no shot wounds, no sign of any violence. There was no way to see what had happened to them.

“Experiment gone wrong?” Steve asked as they approached. He had his shield raised up high, but there was no one to be seen, no movement whatsoever.

“The serum they used wasn’t identical to mine,” Bucky mused. “Their aggression levels often made them lose control over their actions. Maybe they didn’t survive the Cryostasis. Or died right after.”

He pointed towards a few small bloodstains on the inside of the tanks.

“Maybe,” Tony said, thoughtfully. “Or Zemo decided halfway through that he lost interest.”

“In any case, something’s off,” Steve murmured, and both Bucky and Tony hummed their agreement.

Walking further, they came to a console in the middle of the room.

_If it’s any comfort, they died in their sleep_ , a disembodied voice echoed all across the big hall. _Did you really think I wanted more of you?_

Steve turned around, letting his eyes sweep over the cave walls. He spotted Zemo behind a glass door, staring at them impassively. So he had killed the Winter Soldiers. The guy didn’t look gleeful, though, or overly excited. He just looked at Steve numbly as he came to a stop in front of the door that separated them.

Flexing his right arm, Steve raised his hand and put all of his strength into a swing with the shield. It banged loudly against the door, but the glass material didn’t splinter in the slightest.

“Please, Captain,” Zemo said with a thick accent. “The Soviets built this chamber to withstand the launch blast of a hundred rockets.”

“I’m betting I can beat that,” Tony called over.

“Oh, I’m sure you could, Mr. Stark. Given time. But then you’ll never know why you came.”

That was… Steve had no idea what that supposed to mean. Zemo’s motivations hadn’t been clear to him so far, but one thing was very obvious.

He had _wanted_ them to be here. Right now. Right in this very place.

“You killed innocent people in Vienna just to bring us here?”

“I thought about nothing else for over a year,” Zemo confirmed. “I studied you, I followed you. But now that you are standing here, I just realized…” He quirked his head a bit, a very small, almost non-visible smile gracing his lips. “There’s a bit of green in the blue of your eyes. How nice to find a flaw.”

A _year_. Something clicked then. A year ago, Ultron had still weighed heavily on their mind. The battle of Sokovia had still been raging all over the news channel, and they had flown over to East-Europe almost every other week to help with rebuilding.

“You’re Sokovian,” Steve concluded heavily. “Is that what this is about?”

“Sokovia was a failed state long before you blew it to hell,” Zemo answered gravely. “No. I’m here because I made a promise.”

“You’ve lost someone,” Steve said, and… he felt _sorry_. No matter what Zemo had done, he was _so_ sorry for everyone’s loss. If it had been in his power, he would have saved every single life that day, and he knew his team—and Tony especially—felt the same. What had happened in Sokovia had been disastrous, and it still was on everyone’s mind, every single day. But as with everything in life, some things simply were out of their control, and Steve had learned to live with that, and face the consequences.

“I’ve lost _everyone_ ,” Zemo corrected. “And so will you.” There was a grim sort of satisfaction on Zemo’s face. “An empire toppled by its enemies can rise again. But one which crumples from within…” he looked at Steve, looked at Tony, looked at Bucky, “that’s dead… forever.”

“What is that?” Steve heard Tony ask. He turned around and watched as Tony walked around a dusty looking monitor. Steve forced his gaze off of Zemo and made to follow. With Bucky stepping up to them, they all stared down at the screen, where a video had just started running.

“I know that road,” Tony said, his voice surprised, but laced with something… else. Not quite fear, but very close to it.

_16 December 1991,_ Steve read on top of the screen, and it didn’t take long for him to put two and two together. He knew that date, and during his SHIELD training, he’d read all the reports about Howard’s death. And Maria’s.

_Not right now_ , was the only thing he could think right then. Tony knew, of course, knew that it had been the Winter Soldier who had done this, that it had been _Bucky_ , but it’d be different to see it.

As far as Steve knew, the two had never actually talked about it, and instead had mutually agreed to simply try and move on. And Steve had never intervened, too much depending on his husband and his best friend getting along, though he had known it wasn’t a healthy way to deal with it.

“Steve…” Tony breathed, and there was now a palpable tremble in his voice that had Steve step closer to him.

“You don’t have to watch that,” he said, and tried to reach for Tony’s shoulders to lead him away, but Tony stood firm, shrugged off Steve’s grip with the force of his hands.

Steve glanced over to Bucky. His expression was one of infinite regret, as he, too, stared at the monitor. “Neither of you has.”

_‘Help my wife. Please. Help her’_ , Steve heard Howard wheeze in the old black-and-white video recording. And after a long lost moment, a questioning, a disbelieving ‘ _Sergeant Barnes?’_ resounded.

The sounds were truly horrifying. Howard’s choking, Maria’s whimpers and cries, the sound of bones cracking. ‘ _Howard. Howard!’_ Maria screamed. On the screen, the Winter Soldier now neared her, his expression unreadable.

_‘Help’,_ Maria pleaded. When the recording of Bucky choked her, Tony’s whole body twitched, and Steve saw his face crumble into something that was pure pain.

As Steve had foreseen: _Knowing_ was one thing. Seeing it was something else entirely.

To his right, Bucky stood stock-still, his face a blank space, painfully similar to the one on the screen as the Winter Soldier shot a bullet into the surveillance camera.

Slowly, Tony turned around to look at him.

“Tony… please,” Steve said. “He’s playing you. You _have_ to see that.”

There was a pause. Or not a pause—a second of complete _void_ , a nothingness.

Tony held up his hand. “Stay out of this.”

“Tony,” Steve repeated—he breathed the word, and he didn’t know what he pleaded for exactly, but plead he did.

Tony’s eyes locked on him, then, and Steve knew what would happen even before it did. His browns had become blank orbs when they were usually bright and lively, and God help him, but the blankness swallowed Steve whole. Tony had such gorgeous eyes. Those eyes had distracted him on his mission, the first time he’d seen them up close—the night of the gala, all those years ago. His eyes had been distanced, their gaze polite at best, but even then, even when Steve had been sure to despise _Tony Stark_ , he had understood that there was a deep well behind those eyes—a well of warmth, of generosity, of empathy, of true greatness.

He had come to love those eyes fiercely, and now, they were empty. And they stayed that way when Tony’s gauntlet crashed right into Bucky’s face.

Steve watched Bucky fly all across the room and into the next wall. He couldn’t shake his stupor until Tony took stance to fly after Bucky—his helmet now firmly in place—and only just managed to hold him back with a grab of his hand.

“Tony!” Steve hissed. “That’s what he wants! Stop!”

A still beat. Iron Man’s eyes settled on Steve. “I don’t care. He killed my mom,” he said and without another word, Tony raised his free hand and shot a repulsor-beam directly at Steve’s chest. It pushed Steve off, but didn’t even smolder his uniform. It was enough power for his grip on Tony to loosen, though, and he heard the whoosh of foot thrusters and didn’t manage to hold him back in time.

In the matter of a second, Tony stood in front of Bucky, the gauntlet smashing into his face once, twice, before its palm was directed straight at his head—the repulsor gleaming deadly. And Bucky—Bucky just looked up at Tony from where he was heavily leaning against the wall, and he didn’t even raise his arms in defense.

_No_. No, he couldn’t let this happen. Steve stumbled as he heaved himself to his feet. He was running towards the two, ready to launch himself at Tony and pull him off and away—when he noticed it.

Tony’s hand was _still_ raised in the air, _still_ aiming at Bucky, but his whole body was shaking. Steve slowed down. If Tony truly wanted to take that shot, he would’ve done so by now.

The second he came to a halt right next to Tony, Tony all but… dropped. He slumped forward, down on his knees, and the gauntlet that had just been about to shoot a hole through Bucky’s head came to a rest on top of his heart instead. He balled Bucky’s uniform up between his fingers, as he let his head sink.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Tony gasped, and a robotic sound, as close to a sob as the modulators would allow it, resounded in the space between them.

Steve watched as Bucky opened his mouth to say something, but he was interrupted by a sudden sound in the back of the hall.

Steve had been so deeply focused on the two that he hadn’t heard the sound of footsteps behind him, and he wasn’t at all prepared for the vicious kick to his lower back that came just a few seconds later. There was an explosion of pain in his spine, and he hit the pavement on his hands and knees. Before he could recover, another kick landed on the side of his head, pushing him over onto his back.

His sight whitened out briefly, and all Steve could do was press his eyes closed to gather himself.

He heard Tony yell his name, but his voice was muffled and all too-soon, the sounds of punches, repulsor-beams, and knives cutting through the air resounded in the dazed space of Steve’s mind.

_A true pity_ , Zemo’s voice announced via the speakers. _I had hoped you’d sort this out yourselves, but then again… The outcome will be the same._

Outcome? Steve thought dazedly, as he opened his eyes again.

A man was standing over him, Steve realized, his hands bloodied and his black hair, his clothes, all gleaming wetly. His features were twisted with hatred, a thin crust of drying blood streaked across his nose and chin. He was lifting his foot to deliver another blow to Steve’s head, but this time, he saw it coming and managed to dodge. He forced himself to his feet, watching the other man warily.

Bucky and Tony were busy fighting to Steve’s right. He could see another man with dark skin and longer hair, and a muscled, blonde woman.

HYDRA’s Winter Soldiers.

It was only three of them, though. The other two tanks, Steve confirmed with a quick glance, still held the unconscious-looking figures, and he had no idea if they were dead or alive. Zemo must’ve done something so Tony couldn’t have detected their heart rates. Some kind of trick, and they’d walked right into his trap.

The man in front of Steve stood with a grin and loose-limbed elegance; only his sharp eyes belied the casual pose. He was clearly anticipating Steve’s next move, but eventually, it seemed he could not wait any longer.

Like a bull charging, the guy lunged for him. Steve readied himself for the attack, his hand, holding the shield, outstretched. The guy’s bulk of muscle and thick bone was astounding. The striking force of the Winter Soldier’s body was enough to send Steve stumbling backwards onto the floor again. Next to him, Bucky tumbled to the floor as well, seemingly unable to stop the momentum that carried him. He would have fallen onto Steve, if Steve had not quickly thrust one leg upward. His knee caught Bucky in the hollow of his back, and he heaved him out of the way before the soldier’s fist could hit him. Bucky rolled twice before he caught himself, pushing his boots into the ground and flipping himself upright. When Steve turned around, their opponents were already coming for them again.

“Sergeant Barnes,” the long-haired man snarled— _growled_ , really. It seemed there was little human in those people, but it made them all the more deadly. “That’s not very impressive. Are all those years finally catching up on you?”

Bucky’s eyes flashed in response. He rushed forward, this time grabbing the guy with his metal arm. The man, however, pushed him off with the ease of a man throwing a football. As Bucky reeled backward into the computer console in the middle of the room, Steve struck out with one leg, sideswiping the man on the right side of his head.

He had given the kick his all, every bit of strength he possessed, and the man ended on the floor, unconscious for now, though Steve had a feeling those were just fleeting moments.

“Tony?” Steve called, whirling around in horror. Tony was nowhere to be seen. And the woman, and the guy with black hair were gone as well. “Tony!”

There were sounds coming from the other room, and as if he’d heard Steve, Iron Man came flying back through the corridor. The two soldiers, but also a third man—a heavily injured, bloodied man with crazed eyes and brown hair—running after him.

“The dead ones aren’t so dead at all,” Tony called as he sped towards them. His voice wasn’t quite panicked, but it was a close call. “Incoming!”

Both Tony and the woman ended up on the floor, after she’d grabbed his foot; Tony on his back, the woman on her side. Tony recovered first. He grabbed the monitor that still ran the video of his parent’s death from the pedestal and began beating the woman with it. She was able to dodge rapidly enough to avoid the blows, and though Tony delivered several good hits, she eventually managed to hook a leg around the back of Tony’s foot and jerk him back down to the floor.

“Goddammit!” Tony cursed. On his back once again, he just barely managed to roll out of the way and escape another hit. The suit had obviously taken a few bad hits already and Steve had a feeling it wouldn’t withstand that force any longer.

As Steve rushed to Tony’s side and took it up with two of the soldiers at once, Bucky faced off with the dark-haired man—the one who’d attacked Steve first.

“You’ve always been too human,” the soldier mocked him. He dropped to his knees and grabbed Bucky’s shoulders, adding, as he whirled him around, “Still trying to find your place in the world, _James Buchanan Barnes_?”

“Don’t have to try anymore,” Bucky said adamantly, as he heaved himself to his feet.

“ _Aw_. You were always soft at heart,” the soldier spat. “You might be able to fake it; you might even be able to make them believe it. But you will _never_ be like them!”

With that, the man spun around and thrust out a knife from his pocket, nearly slicing off Bucky’s human hand in the process.

Christ, they were quick, perfectly skilled, with a fighting-style of pure brutality. The man’s failed attack had left him slightly—and very briefly—off balance, and Bucky took quick advantage of that fact, throwing an uppercut before he had even straightened up, knocking him off his feet.

“I don’t _have_ to be like them,” Bucky snarled, and rammed his metal hand down on the man’s face repeatedly. It wasn’t enough, the Winter Soldier suddenly had both hands around Bucky’s throat, choking him with an insane amount of strength. Quickly, he let go with one hand, and reached for the upper part of Bucky’s metal arm. A grin flashed across his face, and Steve knew what would happen before it did. He twisted the arm, crushed its middle part, and then—to Steve’s horror—ripped it off.

Oh God, no.

Steve moved forward, wanting to help, but was held back by the soldiers in front of him. He could barely keep up with them, and some of their hits had definitely cracked some of his ribs already.

“Bucky!” Steve yelled, true panic seeping into him, trying once more to push through, but it was of no use. Bucky’s face became white, ashen, and it was then that Tony shot past them all.

The woman was still after him, but he was too fast.

Steve had just raised his shield into the air, and with a swift, underhand movement, Tony fired a blast against its surface and thus shot the shield right into the throat of Bucky’s attacker. The shield bounced against the wall, and whirled right back through the air into Steve’s waiting hand.

He stared at the blood dripping off the shield’s round surface. With a still beat, the man in front of Bucky toppled to the ground, and moved no more.

“Tony,” Steve breathed.

“If we don’t kill them, they’ll kill us,” Tony snapped, and without waiting for a second, he raced forward to meet his next attacker.

“I’m beginning to see that,” Steve admitted, and he hated this, because he knew that without HYDRA, those people might’ve had a chance. But Tony was right—they couldn’t afford to keep their morals in check right now.

Together, he and Tony fought the three remaining soldiers off as best as they could—which wasn’t much. They could barely keep them away from where Bucky sat slumped on the ground. When Tony moved towards the female soldier, she backhanded his helmet with so much force that he spun a full 180 degrees before he could right himself. She whirled a circle around him, and came out in front with her arms gleefully extended to both sides. Tony’s helmet clearly hadn’t survived the blow, and Steve’s breath caught in his throat when he pulled it off, his face battered and bloodied.

An impressive few leaps on her part, and Tony staggered backward with a knife between his eyes, just an inch from piercing his forehead, before she pulled it back again.

They were playing with them, Steve realized. This wasn’t even all they could do, they were still holding back. They knew they’d win, and thus, they were toying with them.

Steve curled his hands into fists, raising his shield.

_No_.

He tried to get closer to Tony, tried to stay at his side, when one of the men raced to Steve. He had to leap to the side, but the man had already drawn back again and struck, this time managing to slash Steve’s right temple. Blood streamed into his eye, burning and momentarily blinding him on that side.

Before he knew what was happening, Steve was pressed with his back against a pillar and a knife at his throat. He got a few more hits to the head that almost had him lose consciousness, but eventually, the man in front of him looked to be a second from finally driving the knife home.

Steve’s eyes widened—but it was that moment, when new footsteps resounded.

At first, he didn’t see anyone, and it was partly the blood in his eyes, and partly the daze in his head. He saw a whirl of red hair, and two men in uniform approaching. The knife at his throat was gone, and Steve blinked until the scene in front of him came together.

In all likelihood, Steve had _never_ been so happy to see Nick Fury and Phil Coulson as in this very moment.

They had come running into the main hall right behind Natasha, who was twirling around the Winter Soldier in fast elegant movements. Three of Phil’s SHIELD agents joined the fight only a moment later. The brown-haired girl— _Daisy_ , if Steve remembered correctly—raised both her hands, her expression becoming intense for a moment—before a blast wave went through the room, toppling all of the Winter Soldiers to the ground.

An explosion from the exit-tunnel made the ground tremble, and all of them were knocked to one side as Vision slowly descended into the basement. The female soldier tried to climb to her feet and threw out the arm holding a knife in an almost desperate movement that cost her the battle. Only a beat later, Vision had her ankle in his hand, and threw her down on the floor with so much force that the asphalt cracked beneath her.

The Mind Stones’ light bore down against Natasha’s opponent, and thus, Steve finally managed to hit him with the shield so hard that he too slumped down on the ground for good.

The next minutes were a blur of motion. Phil’s team had trouble containing the last soldier, but with Fury’s help, they managed to restrain him.

Next to Steve, Tony touched back down on the ground, his gaze now on Bucky.

Bucky was bruised and bleeding as he stared at the unconscious figures in front of him, his eyes nearly filled with more shock than pain. The metal arm lay on the floor next to him, completely broken.

“I’m not like them,” he told Tony as he caught him looking. “I never was.”

“ _Never_?” Tony hissed at him, his hands shaking at his sides. “You _choked_ her! An innocent woman!”

“Tony…” Steve whispered. Tony ignored him, still staring at Bucky instead, though he looked like he could barely hold himself on his feet.

“I did,” Bucky agreed. He glanced up. “And I’m sorry.”

“Do you remember,” Tony said, and there were so many bruises grazing his face that he could only glimpse at Bucky through one eye, “how… how it _felt_?”

“I remember everything,” Bucky replied, sounding terribly defeated. “I remember how she looked at me. I remember that choking her had meant nothing to me, and it… it killed me every time I looked at you. I wish I could give you his regret, but the man I was back then wasn’t able to feel anything. He didn’t care, he couldn’t. I just… I am sorry _now_ , Tony. If I could go back, knowing what I know, I would’ve put a bullet through my head before I’d ever touch her.”

Tony’s eyes met Steve’s briefly, and they were red and swollen, his eyelashes wet and his cheeks streaked with blood. He looked as lost as Steve felt—and Steve yearned to hold him, to comfort him the way Tony had once allowed him to do. He would have done anything— _anything_ —to take that grief from his eyes. An almost painful rush of uncertainty washed over Steve at the idea that he might not be allowed to do that now.

Tony seemingly couldn’t bear it any longer. He turned around, set into motion and walked a few steps to the other side of the room, coming to a stop with his back towards the others.

Phil’s team was putting shackles around the unconscious soldier’s hands and legs, bringing them outside. In the background, a man and a woman were busy working on the Cryostasis tanks, and Steve saw as the woman shook her head when she checked the remaining soldier’s vitals. Natasha had left to look for Zemo—Nick and Phil, on the other hand, were simply standing on the sidelines, watching Steve and Tony warily.

“We need to figure out a way to deal with this,” Steve said quietly as he approached Tony. “What do we do now? Tony, _please_.”

Tony turned around. “Figure out a way?” he echoed with sorrow in his voice. “You really don’t get it, do you? There _is_ no way. Now there’s just the wreckage we all left behind.”

Steve could feel the sting of tears beginning behind his eyes. He wanted to look away from Tony, but his gaze seemed to hold him in thrall, and he couldn’t break the connection. “I made a vow,” he said. “And I’m sticking to it. No matter what.”

“You’re _not_ ,” Tony said on a sob, and Steve was too aware that the rest of the room was deathly quiet. “You _can’t_. I can’t have you going to jail, so you gotta leave.”

“You could come with me, take Ian and…”

“And go into hiding? Leave the country? Hide in some shed in god-knows-where?” Tony huffed dismissively. “It wouldn’t be fair to Ian, and it sure as hell wouldn’t do this world any good if the people who are meant to protect it have to stop doing exactly that. These are the ground rules we have to work with now.”

All the energy left Steve. “I didn’t want any of this,” he urged. “Don’t think this isn’t breaking me.”

Tony jerked slightly and nodded. “I know. You still have to leave.”

Steve’s heart ached when he saw that Tony’s eyes were now closed off like doors barred against him. “But—”

Footsteps resounded once more, and all of them whirled around to see Natasha and Black Panther stepping on the scene. Steve had no idea where he’d come from.

“Helmut Zemo is on the rooftop,” T’Challa told them, his expression strangely kind. “I restrained him.”

“Can you get Steve and Barnes out of here unseen?” Tony asked Phil, and he nodded.

“Our plane is just outside.”

“I can offer you a place to stay for the time being,” T’Challa added.

“You should bring Zemo to Secretary Ross,” Fury told Tony. “It’ll force him to take back a few statements he made.”

Tony glanced at the man, then nodded. He looked so defeated and Steve couldn’t possibly _leave_ like this. So he walked up to him, and he didn’t care if the others watched them. He leaned down, cupped Tony’s cheeks, and kissed him.

For a moment, Tony didn’t move, and Steve’s heart missed a beat, thinking he might have truly lost Tony’s love over this. But then, he caved in. Tony’s lips pressed firmly against Steve’s and there was a hot breath against his skin as he put both of his hands on top of Steve’s, pulling him in. Tony leaped into the kiss with everything he had, exploring his mouth with liberation. Their hands were clasped together as much as possible, until one of Tony’s arms wrapped around Steve’s waist to pull him closer.

And without preamble, Steve felt something hard crash in his chest. This was no reunion, this was Tony bidding him goodbye. With that realization, everything that had been agonizing him for days erupted with a choked gasp, and there was nothing else. Nothing but Tony. The taste of him fogging Steve’s senses. His arms around Steve, holding his body as his tongue explored his mouth, fighting him in the only way they knew. Steve didn't realize that they had moved until his back hit the wall. Didn't matter. He couldn't stop kissing Tony.

Not when he knew what awaited him after.

Faintly, Steve heard the others mutter a few words before they finally gave them some space. When Tony pulled back, he stared up into Steve’s eyes with palpable despair. “You gotta go with them,” he whispered.

“I don’t want to,” Steve whispered right back. _Don’t make me leave you behind._

Tony grimaced. “You _need_ to go so… so you can come back. You’re a wanted man and I can’t protect you right now. Not if we want a chance to salvage anything in the long run.”

Phil cleared his throat from where he stood at the exit. “The plane’s ready,” he told them quietly. “We’re waiting outside... and we can’t stay long. I’m sorry.”

Steve’s attention was briefly drawn back to the openness of their surroundings. While no one did anything more than cast glances in their direction, he could tell Tony felt on display. He did a bit, himself. And yet, this was too important to give in to discomfort right now.

“I love you,” Steve told Tony, not breaking eye contact with him once.

Tony’s face fell and a choked sob escaped his lips as he pressed another kiss, and a second one, against Steve’s lips. “For once, I don’t think that’s enough,” he breathed.

Steve didn’t know why he was so surprised at Tony’s words. It was true after all. This time, their love didn’t help, couldn’t save them.

Desperate, Steve reached into his utility belt and pulled out Tony’s small screwdriver. The one with the Hotrod-red handle he had carried around with him ever since he and Tony had met. With a kiss to the handle, he pressed it into Tony’s hand. “I’ll come back,” he promised. “And we’ll fix this.”

Tony nodded, closing his fingers around the small tool. And then, and it was by far the hardest thing Steve had ever done in his entire life, he let go of Tony, and turned around.

After only a few steps, Tony called his name. Steve stopped, looking back over his shoulder.

“I love you, too,” Tony said, and forced a very small smile on his bruised lips.

"Ian..." Steve started.

"I know. I'll tell him. Now _go_.”

So Steve did. He left Tony—left him standing in the huge cold basement in Siberia that, in only a few hours, had somehow robbed them of everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY. 3 MORE CHAPS.  
> (Also thanks for your comments, you precious people, they keep me going right now...)


	10. Chasing Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise update! I figured it'd be cruel to keep you guys waiting for so long.

 

**Tony**

 

The first stirrings of an unhappy infant woke Tony from a fitful sleep and he grumbled into his pillow. _Don’t want to get up. Wanna sleep some more._ Ian’s whimpers were becoming full-fledged cries and Tony realized he couldn’t ignore him any longer.

It seemed Ian was always crying these days—and he couldn’t fix it. He changed him, and fed him, and rocked him in the chair. He was still screaming, his face red-streaked as he took shaky gulps of air.

His fussiness would’ve been manageable if Tony didn’t have a shitload of work every day. Most hours were spent with Pepper and Maria in his SI office, and whatever break he took he used to debate the Accords with people from the UN. More often than not, Ross asked him to meet with some random lawyer-douchebag for so-called ‘draft discussions’ at the UN headquarter, going over each and every paragraph to see what kind of changes still had to be made before the Accords could become law.

Veronica was a great help. Caring for Ian was now a full-time job for her, and she basically followed Tony around every day to handle him whenever Tony couldn’t.

And yet, Tony felt all remaining strength slowly draining from him. Why had he ever thought he could do this on his own? Lifting up the blanket, he wrinkled his nose and fought off the rolling nausea that threatened to overcome him. Too little sleep, too little food, too little time.

Ian stopped howling when Tony lifted him into his arms, but didn’t stop his fretting. He kept crying, his little breaths hiccupping every couple of moments. “Hey little man, it’s okay, daddy’s got you.”

“Dada,” Ian hiccupped. “Sleep.”

“I know baby, I know.” Desperate, Tony started to pace. Over the distressed sounds, Tony started singing the first thing he could think of: _But when I want to go with her, she says ‘twould never do, ‘for Daddy would be lonely here, without a boy like you…’_

The crying stopped, and Tony smiled, proud. At least, Ian still remembered Steve’s lullaby.

“You miss your papa, huh, darling?” he asked Ian as he carefully pressed him against his chest, his ear close to the arc reactor. Almost instantly, Ian stilled in his arms. “Ba-ba,” he mumbled sleepily, followed by a few ‘ba-ba-bas’.

“Yeah,” Tony agreed softly. “I miss baba, too.”

Apart from the day when Tony had gotten notice that, miraculously—and definitely without Tony’s help—all prisoners from the RAFT had managed to flee, Tony had not heard of Steve and the others again. That had been over two months ago. It was as if, one day, they had simply vanished from his life, and only Ian’s crying, and Tony's cold bed reminded him that nothing was as it was supposed to be.

The smell of pancakes hit his nose before he was all the way downstairs to the common room and Tony’s speed picked up as his stomach growled with anticipation. “Oh hey. Morning,” he greeted when he spotted Natasha in the kitchen.

They had grown even closer over those last weeks, and even though Natasha didn’t show it, Tony knew how much she missed Barnes. She could’ve followed them to wherever T’Challa’s hide-out was, but instead had decided to help Tony keep the boat afloat.

She was flipping pancakes and stacking them on a plate. Her greeting to Tony was a small smile and he smiled back. “Pancakes,” Tony told Ian. “Just what every hungry scientist and his spawn require in the morning.”

“Morning you two.” Natasha made a silly face at Ian, but instead of giggling like he usually did, the baby just started wailing again. Natasha pulled away, her expression turning a tad sad, as she said, “guess someone isn’t a happy trooper today.”

“Nope. I think he woke up on the wrong side of the crib.” Tony shrugged, about to get a bottle from the fridge. “So what’s with pancakes this morning?”

“Just woke up early and figured I’d make you some. Ian’s milk is already in the microwave.”

“That’s… nice,” Tony said, and he meant it. “Thank you.”

Soon after, Ian was fighting the bottle, pushing it away and crying. Tony jostled him a bit, but he wouldn’t settle down. Something was missing. Out of place. And Ian was too clever not to notice.

Snagging a rolled up pancake with palpable frustration, Tony pushed it into his mouth, chewing on it.

Natasha walked around the island and held out her arms. “Come on, give him to me. You eat.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Tony started to hand him off, but Ian’s entire body stiffened and he wailed his protest loudly, almost hysterically.

With a sigh, Tony held him close, rocking him against his chest. “Shush.” Pulling him away from Natasha’s touch, Tony said, “It’s okay, I’ve got him. He doesn’t want anyone but me, I guess. It’s okay.”

Natasha backed away. “You don’t look okay.”

“Charming,” Tony replied with a tiny smile. “I’m just tired, it’s fine.”

It took a while, but finally he got Ian calmed enough so he could eat.

“It’s tough for him,” Natasha mused.

Tony sighed. “It’s tough for everyone.”

“Have you noticed anything weird about Vision lately?”

Tony looked up from his pancake. “Weird?” he echoed blankly. “Isn’t that the norm with him?”

Natasha hesitated, and Tony could see the worry in her eyes.

And it wasn’t that Tony didn’t _know_ what she was talking about. While he still wasn’t sure Vision even needed human food, he seemed to have lost some weight so that his normally snug nerd-pullovers hung off him like a sack of potatoes. He looked as if he wanted something very badly and could not get it. And Tony had a feeling he knew what it was.

“Well, he’s getting a bit skinny.”

Natasha sure didn’t believe in beating around the bush. She watched Tony while toying with the spoon that rested inside her untouched bowl of cereal.

“I know,” he said finally. “Sometimes he visits me in the shop and I push some granola bars in his direction. He always gets distracted and forgets to eat it.”

“So, make him eat it,” Natasha insisted.

Tony dropped the rest of his pancake. “Hey, I’m not his dad,” he said defensively, then huffed, when Natasha cast him an impassive look. “Well, technically I made him, but that doesn’t mean he’s my responsibility. This is Vision we’re talking about. When have you ever heard of anyone ‘making’ him do something?”

“I bet you could make him if you man up about it.”

“We both know it’s about Wanda. And I can’t do shit about that.” He resumed eating, commenting between mouthfuls: “He’s lovesick, but he’s not five and he can handle it.”

_I’ve got my own problems._

Natasha’s expression was suddenly far away. “You of all people should know best what he’s going through,” she said softly.

“Yes, and I have to deal with it, too, don’t I?” Tony said, and only when Natasha cast him an unimpressed glance, he groaned and nodded. “Fine, I’ll talk to him.”

“Good.” She probably couldn’t look more satisfied if she tried. “You holding up?”

There was a pause, and Tony leaned in, brushing his lips along Ian’s forehead. “I try, just… Sometimes, I’m not sure if I can do this,” he admitted. “I can’t replace Steve.”

“You don’t have to replace him.”

“Yes, I do,” Tony replied. “Ian needs both his parents. And I got to deal with the UN, get that sentence off of their heads, or everything will blow in our faces. Still, someone has to make sure Ian has food, and clothes, and gets his nighttime story, and his afternoon walk and…”

Natasha’s hands came up, stroking his hair, before framing Tony’s face and keeping him from retreating into himself again. “Yeah, and you can do that as _you_.”

“I can’t! I…” He pulled away from her and, with one hand, picked his tablet off the table. “Yesterday, I was trying to make a simple grocery list for him, but all I could do was stare at this blank document. I kept thinking about what I’d need to make meals, only I realized I don’t know how to make the things Ian likes without a recipe, and Steve never left any. He had them all in his head, and I never asked because I thought I wouldn’t _have_ to. The only thing I know how to make is the goddamn Thanksgiving dinner menu, and I can’t exactly make him turkey. And I also can’t order pizza all the time either, since that’s not very healthy. And then there’s not just dinner… There’s breakfast and lunch, and I have to make sure Ian eats a healthy breakfast and I don’t—”

“Oh God, Tony, _breathe_ ,” Natasha interrupted. “There’s always a first step, okay? You just got to breathe…” She pulled one of the chairs around to the head of the kitchen island to sit beside Tony. “Now let’s take a look at that list of yours.”

“It’s not a list. It’s a _blank_ _document_.”

Natasha shot him a look. “Yeah, and that’s how lists start. Now, you said you need stuff for breakfast.”

A manic chuckle left Tony’s lips. “I need more than that, damn it, Nat. It was a _metaphor_ …”

“I know, but we’re going to start at the beginning.” Natasha smiled at him, ran a comforting hand down his back.

Tony looked at her, maybe truly seeing her for what she was for the first time. One of his best friends. And likely the strongest woman he’d ever known.

“Why didn’t you go with him?” he asked suddenly. “There’s nothing holding you here.”

Natasha shook her head, smiling dismissively.

“ _No_ , tell me. I… I don’t _get_ it.”

Natasha’s eyes briefly flickered sideways, before they settled on Tony again, calm and sure. “James and I… we know very well what the other can take, and we’re used to see things for what they are.” She smiled at him. “This… situation. You might not realize it, but it’s temporary. It’s not how we’re gonna lead our life. I knew, when all of this began that James and I might have to go our separate ways for a while. And that is… okay.”

_Okay?_

“I… I don’t understand.”

“You and Steve,” Natasha said with empathy, “you’re always taking the brunt force, it’s just who you are, so the least James and I can do is stay by your side, keep you sane without the other until you can be together again.”

That was… It was… Tony blinked. “You… you did all this, staying by my side, for— _what_ —so Steve and I won’t…” _Fall apart?_

“We would never even _have_ this chance to be with each other without the two of you. Don’t you understand?” Natasha asked, shaking her head at him, as if Tony was insanely stupid for not getting it. “I didn’t have any hope of finding James again, and keeping him had been something out of reach my entire life. Trust me, this is the very least we can do. And I know he can be without me for now, and he knows the same about me, too.”

Tony swallowed, and only managed to shake himself out of his stupor when Ian reached for him with two chubby hands. He wished he could rely on a mindset like that, on such a fierce trust. But without Steve… he just didn’t see the end of the damn desert.

And maybe that was Natasha’s whole point.

“I shouldn’t have taken it out on him. My mom… and dad… it wasn’t his fault.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Natasha agreed. “But I know he understands why you did it. He won’t hold it against you.”

Disbelievingly, Tony stared down at his son, warmth going through him, as he started to feel like maybe this wasn’t too big for him to handle after all.

Once… once all of this was over, he would talk to Bucky, and finally tell him that… no matter what, his parents' death wasn’t on him, and that—that he was his friend. Not a guy he had to deal with because he was Steve’s chosen brother, but because he wanted him around. In his team, in his home, at his side.

Once this was over, he’d shove his pride down on the ground, and put back together what he’d broken.

He had a lot of repairing work to do, after all.

 

* * *

 

It took Tony by surprise when he ran into Peter Parker in the lobby of Avengers Tower. He supposed it shouldn’t, since he had invited him to come over at any time, but it did all the same.

They’d agreed to eat lunch together, making a slightly awkward small talk on the way over, then brought their food outside to eat on the tower’s rooftop.

“So what brings you into the lair of the not-so-mighty Avengers?” Tony asked.

“I just wanted to see how things were going,” Peter replied. “I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch since...” He leaned in, actually checking the empty rooftop for any unwanted witnesses. “ _You_ _know_.”

“It’s okay,” Tony said, voice amused. “My invite wasn’t meant as an obligation.”

“I know, but I wanted to. I just… had to work through a few things first. Mostly I tried not to freak out that I’d actually worked with you guys.”

Tony had been reaching for a bottled water, but his hand dropped when Peter said that. “I’m sorry I pulled you into this. I wouldn’t have done that if I’d had another choice—”

“It’s fine,” Peter said. “I just… I needed a break.”

“I see.”

Peter smiled. “But I’m okay now, Mr. Stark. Really. Tell me about the Avengers, what have you been up to recently?”

Tony wasn’t sure if he should answer that, but then again, why the hell not. “Guess we needed a break, too,” he said meekly, smiling. “Not many of us around anymore.”

“Hm,” Peter hummed, looking awkward for a moment. Then, he cleared his throat. “Can I ask, I mean… when did you and Captain America get together?”

Tony choked on his sandwich, his eyes bugging. “Huh?”

“You and… Captain Rogers?” Peter blushed slightly. “I thought he was your boyfriend.”

“Steve’s not my boyfriend,” Tony said. “He’s my…” He fell quiet, frowning at nothing in particular, realizing, maybe for the first time, that he had no idea if Steve still was his husband. The word had come so naturally to him for years, always something he'd said with a giddy sort of pride, and it was strange to question it now.

“We married a little over three years ago,” he said wistfully. “Why?”

Peter looked down, though Tony caught the confusion in his eyes. “And you broke up over that lawsuit?”

“We didn’t break up,” Tony explained, at least, he didn’t think so. With the way he’d treated Steve in that cave, he might see that differently. “We just… Sometimes life takes it all away from you, and you gotta fight to get it back, you know? If you plan to make this superhero gig a habit, you’ll have to accept that. Cap and I did.”

For some reason, his own words only seemed to really get to him once he had voiced them. This wasn’t the first time it felt as if the world wanted to push them apart.

“Are you… okay?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll get through,” Tony said, and eyed Peter. "And you? Any ‘teenager problems’?”

Peter huffed, smiling at him a bit sheepishly.

“What? You gotta warn me,” Tony said. “It’s only a matter of time till my kid will slam his door into my face and listen to music I hate and meet people I despise.”

“Doesn’t have to be that way,” Peter said. “He’ll just want someone who takes him serious. That’s the big secret.”

“Your hot aunt seemed pretty laid-back.”

Peter dropped his hands to his sides, his nose scrunching up for a moment. “She’s great. I’m just… nervous.”

“About what?”

“Starting classes again.”

That surprised Tony. “What for? Afraid none of the other kids are gonna want to sit with you at lunch?”

Peter gave him a dirty look. _“No_. I’m more worried that I’m not going to be able to go back to the everyday stuff. I feel like I’m in such a different mindset now than I was last month. I fought by _your_ side, and now am I just going to go back to being a high school kid?”

“Of course not,” Tony replied, earning himself a confused look from Peter. Quickly, he moved to explain himself. “You’re going to be a young man going to school so he can go to a college and get a degree and make a better life for himself. People do it all the time, Peter. Afterwards, you can decide what to do with your life. It doesn’t have to be this. It’d probably be better if you decided to do something else entirely.”

Peter looked at him for a moment, before asking, “How’d you get the reputation of being such an asshole? You're terribly nice.”

Tony snorted. He pulled out his phone, putting down a quick note for FRIDAY to check whether or not Peter’s hot aunt could afford the college funds, and to help out if she couldn’t. “Trust me,” he told Peter, “I did a lot of things to shape that image. And I never really managed to stick my foot in my mouth when it was needed.”

Peter smiled. “I know a little something about that.”

“I bet you do,” Tony replied, smiling too, as he let his gaze sweep over the New York skyline.

“Why don’t you come over for dinner some time?” Tony asked after a moment. “I know Rhodey would like to meet you again, and I’d be happy to have you there, too. We could train a bit together. We have two whole training floors.”

“You wouldn’t mind?”

“Not at all. It would be great to have a guest over. Maybe it would convince Vision and Natasha to be on their best behavior and the meal wouldn’t dissolve into them throwing napkins around for once. Those two have _no_ table manners.”

“Sounds like fun.” Peter grinned as he stood up, reaching for his backpack. “Gotta go, May is waiting for me. Thanks for lunch Mr. Stark.”

Tony rolled his eyes. Eventually, he’d get the guy to call him by his first name.

“Oh and—Mr. Stark?”

“Hm?”

Peter looked down at him, his expression a little bashful. “You know… most people in my school, and May’s friends, our neighbours and friends and basically everyone I know… they don’t think about you badly. I remember when people started talking about you and Captain America and this new superhero team in New York. The Avengers have been… an inspiration to people for almost as long as I can remember. I know you guys had to deal with a lot of bad rep lately, but… the way you dealt with all those villains when you didn’t have to, and fought for us over and over again, just because it was the right thing to do, I mean… you’re _heroes_. You saved Millions of lives.” He smiled earnestly. “I just want you to know that there’s still a lot of people who remember that.”

Tony smiled, couldn’t help himself. He stared at the city and felt a lump forming in his throat. “Thanks, Junior.”

 

* * *

 

The glass-door of Tony’s workshop shut with a satisfying sound, and Tony leaned against it, sighing with relief. Unbuttoning his dress shirt, he pulled it from the waistband of his pants, then loosened his tie.

No more work today, Ian had settled down, FRIDAY monitored everything. He finally had a few hours for himself.

With a small sigh, he activated the holographs and opened up the latest news, flipping through the pages until he found the section on the Avengers. There was a lot there, a lot of hatred and not nearly enough support. It was a sick kind of self-torture he did there, he knew it, but the shit-storm about the Avengers wasn’t what interested him. It was that first page, that newspaper article he’d glimpsed at earlier this day. There was a picture of him and Steve. It was small and blurred, since they had never officially sold any wedding pictures; but it was undeniably them, exchanging their vows.

_Superhero Romance Game Over!_

Tony read the line again, his brow furrowed with thought. It seemed so crazy that everyone thought that he and Steve were over.

It wasn’t a very good picture. Aside from the poor quality of the image, the angle was odd, and yet… it was them at their happiest.

Tony stroked the tip of his finger across the screen, caressing it as if he were caressing Steve.

“Game Over my ass,” he muttered.

“Tony?”

Tony stared over his shoulder, annoyed for a moment that he couldn’t even get a minute of quiet. Then, however, he spotted Vision’s red form and realized he hadn’t seen him in days.

Vision looked no less uncomfortable than Tony felt. He held up a plate with a bunch of sandwiches on top.

“I wasn’t sure if I was welcome.”

Ah fuck, he’d forgotten about Natasha’s suggestion to talk to Vision. He just… there was so much going on, and with Ian and SI, he’d barely had any time, and—

It was a lie, Tony knew that. The truth was, he was tired of constantly being reminded that he was partly responsible for tearing so many people apart. Friends. Lovers. He knew Vision and Wanda had been onto something, and it might’ve taken a while before ever-so-polite Vision would’ve made a move, but now, there was no chance for them whatsoever.

“You’re always welcome,” Tony said casually.

“That’s good to know. Thank you.” Vision hesitated, after he’d put down the plate. “Well, then… have a good evening.”

_Have a good evening?_ Tony snorted. He contemplated Vision for a long moment, watching his bowed head and dejected air.

“Come sit down with me.” Tony waved him over to the research table. He picked up the sandwich, noting it was his favorite, before he took a huge bite. “Eat,” he said, and when Vision didn’t make any move, he rolled his eyes. “Listen, buddy, I’m not the guy to needle anyone about their daily routines, that’s Steve’s job, but you can’t let this drag you down.”

“I just wish I could make up for what I did, with Wanda,” Vision said, even as he moved forward. “But this isn’t something that can be fixed.”

Tony huffed a laugh. “Believe me, ‘making up’ isn’t strictly about fixing anything. I would know.”

“Past actions speak differently,” Vision mused. “All you ever did since you became Iron Man was to try and make things better. I, on the other hand, only gave Wanda the impression that I wanted her to change, when that couldn't be farther from the truth.”

Tony stared at him. “My ways often hurt people, too,” he said. “You only wanted to help her. And Wanda’s a special flower. She’s got more power in her little finger than just about any one of us. She wasn’t born that way, so she needs to learn to control it. It wasn’t your fault for pointing that out.”

“But…”

“She’ll pull through. We all will at some point. You should talk to her, when you have the chance, I bet she’ll forgive you in a heartbeat.”

“You think?”

Vision’s voice had been as quiet and unsure as Tony had possibly ever heard it. He looked up, and found that the question truly didn’t need much thinking.

“Yes,” he said. “And hey, you’re a good-looking guy,” he waved at him with a grin, “all that red skin, and the gem in your head, very 70s. Who wouldn’t want that.”

Vision’s pursed his lips. “You’re making fun of me.”

“Just tryin’ to keep it light,” Tony said, and heaved a long breath. “It’s a shitty situation, Vis, nothing to be done about that. For all of us. But you _are_ a really good guy. You’ve been one of my closest friends for a whole long time, and for what it’s worth, I think she was interested, too.”

Vision swallowed. “Really?”

Oh God, how the guy could be fifty percent Dalai Lama, and fifty percent swooning schoolboy, Tony would never understand.

“Really. And now take one of the damn sandwiches and eat something. I’m not you people’s mother.”

He clasped a hand on Vision’s shoulder, before he turned back to his work. He heard Vision standing up, walking towards the door, and released a low breath.

“Hey, Vis?”

Vision came to a stop, sandwich in hand, and looked back at him. However the hell Tony had managed to do it, but he already looked a lot better. “Yes?”

“I never asked her, but I’m pretty sure Natasha’s still in contact with the others. So… you can ask her to forward something to Wanda.” He shrugged. “Just thought I’d let you know.”

Vision’s expression slightly fell, looking lost. “I wouldn’t know what to say to her, besides that I’m… that I’m sorry.”

Tony smiled at him and nodded. “That seems to be the moral of the tale, yes.”

 

* * *

 

He couldn’t stop thinking about Steve.

His thoughts were always there with him, wondering if he was okay, if he had slept well that day, or what he was doing now that he wasn’t jogging in New York, playing with Ian, reading his history books, or doodling in Tony’s shop.

He knew he should be focusing on Ian. He should be able to hold a conversation with his friends—with Pepper, and Natasha, and Maria, and Rhodey—who were, after all, doing their very best to mend fences, each on their own. Instead, he found his thoughts constantly returning to Steve. Whenever he walked past the framed photo of Tony’s birthday-party, with them sharing a kiss that was more laughter than anything else and cradling a newborn Ian in their arms, something in his chest tightened with yearning.

God, it would have been so much easier if he could just hate him for what had happened. But he couldn’t.

“It’s my fault because I knew what he would do.” He spoke aloud, Tony realized too late, and although he didn’t turn his head to look, he could sense Rhodey twisting in his swivel chair, his eyes slightly surprised.

Tony didn’t blame him. After all, he hadn’t spoken to him in over two hours. He’d only sat hunched over the new War Machine prototype for the better part of the day, adamant to finally finish it so Rhodey could give it a first try.

It was just the two of them now. Vision had become a second spokesperson for the Avengers, touring through interviews and hearings with Pepper, and Natasha—she’d said she would return to the tower in a few days. She had refused to tell Tony where she was going, but he had a feeling he knew anyway. He’d watched her pack a small backpack, with things to sleep, and a few books that looked a lot like the Scandinavian thrillers Wanda had been reading lately, and a good dozen jelly beans—Clint’s secret obsession.

Now, only Rhodey remained, and Rhodey’s presence never bothered him. He allowed Tony to be, and they had passed the time together, side-by-side. And Tony could admit that he needed him around. He needed someone strong to sit beside him, to offer him support.

His words had clearly surprised Rhodey. He hesitated a moment before answering him, weighing his words carefully.

“Tony,” he began. “It’s easy to place the blame for this on yourself, but you're not responsible for anyone’s actions but your own. You're not a fortuneteller. How could you possibly foresee what Steve would do?”

“But I did,” he insisted. “I _know_ him. I'd been… with him for so long. He hasn’t changed. I didn’t tell him about the Accords because I hadn’t found a solution yet, and I didn’t want it to come between us. But I was wrong. I never gave him the time to actually make up his mind about it. I forced his hand. I waited too long.”

A gentle hand came to rest on his arm. There was a long silence, and then Rhodey said quietly, “It was Ross who insisted on that ultimatum—a mistake I didn’t see at that time either…”

“The ultimatum wouldn’t have mattered,” Tony interrupted wearily. “Not if I’d told him first. I just delayed the inevitable.”

“We forced his hand, because Ross forced ours,” Rhodey said, then sighed. “I said a few things to Steve I shouldn’t have.”

“You were a bit of an asshole,” Tony confirmed with a crooked grin. “Will your childhood hero ever forgive you?”

Rhodey huffed. “He stopped being my childhood hero when I saw him spooning my best friend in his Iron Man sweatpants.”

Tony snorted. That had been so long ago. “That was movie night, you jackass. And the pants were a gift from Clint.”

Rhodey hummed, smiling. The easiness vanished from his expression soon after, his gaze turning thoughtful. “The UN is still willing to give him a trial if he turns himself in, right? Shouldn’t he—”

“No,” Tony interrupted. He sighed and wiped his eyes. “I appreciate the thought, Rhodey, but… I will never let them get their hands on Steve. Not until the Accords are in place and he’ll be judged by standards that actually mean something for our line of work. Because they can twist and turn this as they want, but they didn’t leave him any options… and neither did I.”

There was another heavy pause between them. Tony stared at the ceiling. “I met Parker at the tower a few days ago,” Tony told Rhodey. “He said he’d come over and have dinner with us sometime.”

Rhodey looked up, a smile on his face. “That would be nice.”

Tony nodded. “Yeah. I thought… maybe we can make it work like this for a while. The team. Our job’s to help people. To save and protect them. Maybe we should remember that.”

“That’s the spirit,” Rhodey confirmed, clasping a hand on Tony’s shoulder.

It didn’t take much longer for Tony to finish his work on Rhodey’s suit. He quickly explained the new upgrades, then watched as Rhodey did a quick test flight outside.

“So… all good?” he asked, though he had already catalogued the changes that had to be made.

“Yeah, it’s awesome,” Rhodey said with a cheeky grin as he let the suit disassemble around him.

They sat back down on the couch, and Tony needed moments like these, when they used to open a beer each and talk about everything and and nothing. As if reading Tony’s thoughts, Rhodey walked over to the small fridge and came back with two cokes.

Well, different times and all that. He wasn’t sure when his life had gotten a PG rating, but it wasn’t as bad as it sounded.

“Remember your birthday party?” Rhodey asked. “The one where you drunk-whined about how you were having the hots for Steve instead of telling me you were dying?”

Tony chuckled. He had been so enamored with Steve. How it had taken them another half year to get together was beyond him now. “I have my priorities straight.”

“That’s a matter of opinion.” Rhodey grinned as he let himself fall back down on the couch. They both opened their cans, taking a sip. “You know, Tones, I liked Steve well enough from the start. Even before I knew who he was. They guy has a good heart, and it wasn’t exactly hard to see that he wanted to… well…”

“Boink me?” Tony finished. “‘Cause I gotta tell you, I kinda dry-humped him on that party.”

Rhodey gave him a shove with his elbow, a disgusted look on his face. “ _Be with you_ , idiot. And I did not need to know that. _Ever_. Damn it.”

Tony snorted. He wasn’t sorry.

“Anyway,” Rhodey said, “I liked Steve when I met him, but you wanna know when I realized he’d be really good for you?”

It wasn’t hard to see where Rhodey was going with this. “When he made me stop drinking.”

“No,” Rhodey said, shaking his head. “When you decided for yourself that you wanted to stop drinking. To become better for him.”

Tony smiled at nothing. “And now I lost him. What does that say about me?”

“The thing is, and I swear there is a point here: You changed a lot since you met Steve. I’m not saying that’s all his work, but the guy who got wasted at that party, and the guy here,” he clapped a hand on Tony’s knee, “there’s helluva difference. You decided to take responsibility for what happened with the team, and that’s all because you wanted to be a better man… for him.”

Tony remained quiet, and _no_ , his eyes didn’t water, for God’s sake.

“138 combat missions,” Rhodey said. “That’s how many I’ve flown. Every one of them could’ve been my last, but I flew ‘em. To the fight needed to be fought. It’s the same with these Accords. I signed because it was the right thing to do. And, yeah, this sucks.” He glanced at Tony. “But losing Steve didn’t change your mind.”

_Losing Steve_ … the words resonated within Tony’s mind as something ugly, something terrifying.

Had he truly lost Steve?

“No, it didn’t,” he told Rhodey, his voice rough, and then… then he couldn’t keep himself from crumbling. He had kept it together until now, but this weight on his heart, it was slowly suffocating him.

He slapped a hand over his face, trying to turn around, but Rhodey had his arms around him before he could. He dragged him down on the ground and hugged him tight… and Tony found all strength leaving him, as he let himself be held by his best friend.

 

* * *

 

After yet another morning full of boardroom meetings at the UN, Tony stood in some secluded and far too colorful ‘parent-child room’ that seemed to be in use only by himself these days. It was noon, and he’d just had his last meeting for the day, and could very well be on his way home, if Ian hadn’t decided to make a big fuss before Tony could put him into his stroller.

Veronica had just handed him over to Tony half an hour ago, a guilty expression on her face when Ian had started to throw yet another tantrum.

So instead of going home, Tony sat in the stupid UN daycare room and fed Ian. A full stomach quieted him down for a little while, but after a few minutes, he started to cry again. So he changed him. He played with him. He bounced him on his knee.

After getting him cleaned up, Tony tucked Ian into one large swing in the middle of the room and set it in motion, heading back over to the couch where he’d stationed his tablet. Ross had been sending him more and more comments on the Accords, and the irony of it all was, that Tony had a feeling that they were slowly reaching that compromise he believed the rest of the team might have agreed to sign in the first place.

Well. Too little too late, it seemed.

For a blessed ten minutes, there was quiet except for the squeaking of the swing and Ian’s babbling. Tony was almost ready to pack it and finally go home when Ian started crying again. With a sigh that was close to exasperated, Tony turned to check on him. After ten more minutes of running through the usual checklist of possible problems, serious frustration was beginning to leak in. After a week of almost non-stop crying, Tony wanted to burst into tears himself, though he’d never have admitted it.

Ian didn’t want a bottle, and when Tony popped the pacifier in his mouth, he spat it back out again. Humming didn’t work. Walking didn’t work. Bouncing didn’t work. He tried rocking, and Ian still wouldn’t stop crying.

Tony was very close to calling Veronica and let her handle him the rest of the day as well, but that would have meant conceding defeat, and that was simply unacceptable. What kind of father would he make when he couldn’t even get his own son to settle down?

“What the _hell_ do you need?” Tony snapped. He didn’t shout, since that wouldn’t do him any good with an infant, but he _wanted_ to. Actually, what he wanted to do was to put Ian down in one of the sterile-looking cribs and let him cry himself out. The sound of his wails was slowly but steadily driving him crazy.

The sharpness of his question, however, just caused Ian to cry harder, his big azure blue eyes staring up at Tony in terrible confusion.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Tony whispered, kissing Ian’s forehead in apology. _This_ —this was exactly the kind of parent he didn’t want to be, he reasoned with himself. He wouldn’t be handing Ian off to someone else whenever things got difficult. Relying on Veronica was fine, but right now, Ian wasn’t feeling well, and he needed his father.

_Fathers_ , really, but that was a whole other matter.

“I’m sorry,” Tony echoed, cradling his son against his chest. “I love you, daddy is sorry, baby.”

Racking his brain, Tony tried to remember if Steve had ever mentioned any of the strategies he’d used when Ian wouldn’t stop crying, but couldn’t think of any. He knew his baby loved lying on Steve’s bare chest more than anything, but that probably had something to do with the accelerated heartbeat the serum had given Steve.

He loved the arc reactor as well, but mostly as a humming sound when he was already close to dropping. And he definitely wasn’t ready to drop now.

Tony was almost ready to admit defeat when a possible solution hit him. _Teething_. Of course. Hadn’t their nanny once said this was about the age when babies started getting teeth? He’d read that some infants were notoriously fussy during that stage. Perhaps what Ian needed was simply something that would soothe the savage beast.

It certainly beat sitting around in that damned UN office and waiting for Ian to tire himself out.

“FRIDAY, ask Happy to go to our pediatrician, get some homeopathic pain relievers for teething. Make a list of things that help, and order some teething toys while you’re at it.”

“Done and done, Sir,” FRIDAY replied dutifully from Tony’s phone speakers. “Miss Klein is waiting outside to bring the little master home. Should I tell her to wait?”

“No, tell her she can take the day off, I’m done here.”

There was a pause. “Sir, I’m afraid there’s another appointment waiting for you. A draft discussion in boardroom three. Secretary Ross wanted a new lawyer to look at the papers. Said it needed a fresh pair of eyes.”

Tony frowned and looked down on the calendar in his phone. True enough, there was another meeting set up at two p.m.—another one of those horrible discussions about which changes on the Accords were acceptable and which weren’t. He really must be tired—he’d been one hundred percent sure the last meeting had been it for today.

“Fine. Tell Vi to meet me at the elevator. I should be home before dinner.”

With that, Tony packed his things and walked out of the room. It was Friday, so the UN headquarter was fairly deserted by now. Only a few rooms were still occupied.

After he’d handed Ian over to Veronica, Tony went to the bathrooms, freshening up a bit. He changed his tie since Ian had effectively crumbled the last to a point of no return, and washed his face with the tap water. Then, he headed on to boardroom three.

A man Tony didn’t know waited for him there. He sat alone at the huge-ass oval conference table and Tony saw him paging through the latest Accords version.

Bracing himself for another hour of a horrible back and forth of arguments, Tony walked in.

“Sorry I'm late,” he said as he let the door fall close behind him. For a brief second he paused at the fact that a statement like that would’ve _never_ crossed his lips only a few years ago—he really had changed a lot more than he had realized. “My kid’s a bit of a nightmare these days.” He offered his hand. “Tony Stark, I don’t think we’ve met.”

The man, a blond guy with nice-enough features, cast him a smile that rang just a little bit strained. He shook his hand with a strong grip. “Don’t worry about it.” He closed his mouth, his eyes wandering intensely over Tony’s face, before he cleared his throat. “Hope he isn’t sick?”

Tony raised a brow. “No, just… teething. He can be a handful.”

That drew a smile on the man’s lips. “I bet you’re handling it well.”

With a shake of his head, Tony opened his tablet with the latest draft file. Was the guy flirting with him? Over his kid? His voice had that _tone_ and wasn’t that… it was odd. No one had tried anything since Steve had effectively put an ‘off the market’ stamp on his forehead.

Then again, Tony wasn’t even sure if he still was. Off the market.

He cleared his throat. “Should we start?”

“Of course.” The man glanced towards the ceiling where Tony knew a few cameras were stationed.

“What is it?” he asked.

That had the man blink and look back to him. “Nothing, sorry. Let’s do this.”

“You seem tense,” Tony commented. “You alright?”

The man leaned forward. For a moment, it actually looked like he wanted to reach for Tony’s hand, which had Tony draw his chair back so fast it screeched loudly on the linoleum floor.

“You’re getting a bit personal, there, don’t you think?” he asked, and then, without taking his eyes off the man, motioned for the paper draft in front of them. “You’re here to discuss the latest changes with me, aren’t you? I think we should stick to that.”

“I—” The man said, then followed Tony’s gesture with his eyes. He pointedly reached for a pen that lay on the table between them, and leaned back. “I’ve actually read most of it, already. The changes are good.”

“Good?” Tony echoed.

The man shrugged. “Makes for a solid ground to work on. For both sides.”

Tony probably stared open-mouthed now, but he didn’t bother trying to shield his surprise. The latest changes involved a lot of stuff that would shift control from UN back to the Avengers, like an emergency veto, and jurisdiction having to take events that had led to the crime into consideration, and not just the crime itself.

No UN lawyer would ever consider those changes ‘good’, or see why the Avengers needed to have the last word when the world was in danger.

“That’s… unexpected,” Tony admitted. “I thought when your boss told me he wanted ‘a fresh pair of eyes’ that it was an euphemism for ‘it’s absolute crap and we need a reason to strike this out again’.”

That had the man smile somewhat. “Well… someone once told me that it’s good to have a countercheck-system. And in my book, that _does_ go both ways. This,” he put his hand on the Accords draft, “is ensuring both parties have a right to do what needs to be done when the world needs it. There’s a few things I would consider adjusting, but all in all… I think this is something everyone could work with.”

Something about this—and Tony blamed his exhaustion and general bad mood that he couldn’t put a finger on it—rang a bell in the back of his mind. Tony stared at the man, at his foreign face, and found he couldn’t place him at all.

“Who are you?” he asked. He pointedly put his right hand on the table, his watch gleaming under the bright electric lights. One movement and he’d have the Iron Man gauntlet at the ready. The guy wouldn’t even know what was coming for him.

Maybe the last meeting _had_ been his last meeting, after all, Tony thought. And this was just some kind of trap, some way to get him out of the picture before he caused any more trouble. It wasn’t how he thought the UN operated, though. Ross was a dick, but a professional one with a pretty straight moral compass.

Then again... Tony had been wrong about people before.

The man glanced down at Tony’s watch, and there was no confusion on his features.

“I’m…” He paused, and shook his head, a small self-deprecating smile now gracing his lips. “What I am is terribly bad at this,” he said on a low breath. He looked up at Tony then, staring straight at him.

“What was your name again?” Tony asked, only then realizing that the man had never actually introduced himself. It hadn’t mattered _before_ , but for some reason, it did now.

The man swallowed and smiled timidly. “You know who I am.”

Well, if his words weren’t like a sledgehammer to the chest already, those eyes would have been.

How Tony hadn’t made the connection the second he’d laid eyes on the man’s face was beyond him now. Those _eyes_ , blue like the bluest part of the ocean, looked at Tony like they could see straight through him—and right into his heart.

Apparently, he had been even more immersed in his own thoughts than he’d realized—so much, in fact, that he hadn’t _truly_ looked at the man. His features were still wholly unfamiliar, but now Tony could see some sort of… distortion at the edges of his face. Like there was something not quite as it should be.

Tony’s hand slipped from the table, and he felt his heart beating so fast he was sure the man in front of him could hear it.

He _did_ have super-hearing, after all.


	11. Together

 

**Tony**

 

“Take it off,” Tony said, and the words were out of his mouth before he could really think them through. When his brain caught up, his eyes flickered to the ceiling where the cameras were directed at them.

He heaved a heavy breath, his mind going in a thousand different directions at once.

Steve was here.

He was looking at him intensely, though he didn’t move to remove the mask.

Clever man.

“You’re really coming here, of all places,” Tony whispered, disbelievingly. He reached for his tablet, and Steve’s blue eyes followed his gaze expectantly.

 _Don’t you think this might be a little dangerous?_ Tony typed.

He wanted to write more, but reminded himself that this was very much not his tower, and he had no idea how many cameras and microphones were stuffed in this room alone. It wasn’t safe enough.

So Tony tapped a few more buttons, blocking each device nearby.

“You have three minutes.”

Steve nodded. “I… I thought about going to the tower, or the facility, or intercept you on the way here, but I didn’t wanna come if I wasn’t welcome. This is neutral ground.” He shrugged somewhat. “And I wasn’t sure if my code’s still valid.”

“It is,” Tony said, sighing. “So you didn’t want to be impolite and decided to go to the one place that would one hundred percent, no doubt whatsoever, get you into prison if anyone saw you?”

That roused a small chuckle from Steve. “Nick sent me papers, Nat brought me the mask, I got a flight-ticket, that’s kinda as far as my plan went.”

Of course that’s what Natasha had been up to. Tony rolled his eyes.

Steve reached for his hand then, and Tony _burned_ to meet him halfway, but he still couldn’t actually grasp all of this. He had simultaneously begged for the day he would see Steve again and dreaded it with every fiber of his body. Because after all those weeks, he wasn’t sure where they stood with each other.

So instead of grasping Steve’s hand in his, he stood up. The air between them was dreadfully still, and now that Tony had stepped out of Steve’s reach, he found himself drowning in cold. He had barely dared to hope at all anymore, but now Steve was here, and Tony wouldn’t let that chance go to waste.

“What do you want?”

A soft sigh. “Isn’t that obvious?” Steve asked. “I wanted to see you. I’ve missed you.”

“And after you saw me? What then?”

Steve shook his head, and it was still so fucking strange to see him, and not see him at the same time. “I don’t have all the answers. I came here in hope we could find a solution together.”

“You’re a wanted man. I’m not sure what kind of solution you want to find.”

He walked over to the windows, bringing a bit more distance between them.

“I’m ready to face consequences if that means I can come back.”

Tony turned around, staring at Steve wildly. “You won’t be facing consequences. Do you think I want you imprisoned?” He rubbed a hand over his face. “Where are you staying, anyway?”

“Wakanda,” Steve replied without hesitation. “I’d give you specifics, but I have no idea. It’s… somewhere deep in a jungle. T’Challa’s made sure the place stays a secret. Even to us.”

“Sounds lovely,” Tony said. He leaned back against the window front and stared at Steve from afar. “You alright?”

“I’m okay,” Steve said and stood up. Tony’s eyes took him in, and now he felt insanely stupid that he hadn’t recognized that wide set of shoulders.

Tony felt himself tensing a little as Steve walked closer, but he tried not to let it show. “We all are, as much as we can be. But I… Tony I never wanted it to go this far. I wish we’d had more time to discuss the paper. Everything went so fast. All I could do was react to things that were already happening. There wasn’t a moment to actually think things through, or I would’ve handled it differently.”

That was true. Tony had often damned the circumstances, had often thought that if Zemo hadn’t interfered, played his little game with them, that they would have managed to find a compromise. But as was so often the case, the world hadn’t been quite as generous.

“How long can you stay?” he asked. A glance down to his watch confirmed that they didn’t have a lot of time left before he needed to shut down the jammer or risk the alarms going off.

“I didn’t book a return flight,” Steve said. He came to a halt a few inches away from Tony, obviously unsure of what to do next. “I figured you’d tell me when I wasn’t welcome.”

The meaning behind those words was painfully clear. It wasn’t a ‘when’ Steve was asking, it was an ‘if’. And the question whether or not Steve was welcome was…

It was ridiculous.

Ridiculous to think Tony could ever _not_ want Steve around.

“I hate that mask,” Tony whispered, even as his tablet on the table far away from them started beeping. “It’s weird not to see you.”

“I’m still me,” Steve assured him. He reached out again, and with a low breath, Tony let him squeeze his hand once.

The beeping was louder now, and they moved in, briefly, their foreheads touching, before Steve stepped back, bringing a respectable distance between them.

A final, slightly longer sound ended the blackout.

Tony cleared his throat. “Great ideas. We should definitely discuss this further,” he told Steve in a loud voice. “I’d suggest you come by the tower, I’ll have my assistant set up an appointment.”

Steve smiled—a stranger’s smile—but the open relief in his eyes was beautifully familiar. “I’ll be there.”

 

* * *

 

At home, Tony immediately went to Ian’s baby room. Vi had put him into bed for a quick nap and gave Tony a short goodbye hug before she left.

Tony tried not to let his nervousness show, but it was a futile thing. Vision and Rhodey had been giving him confused glances on his way up, but he really didn’t have the mind for any explanations.

He double-checked Steve’s code to make sure it was still working and alerted FRIDAY, before he sat down on the chair next to Ian’s bed. The poor guy was holding his new teething toy close to him, mouthing at it, but it was easy to see he wasn’t about to fall asleep any time soon.

Eventually, he started fretting again, not with the intensity of before, but it didn’t make it seem any less despaired.

“Shhhh,” Tony soothed him, pulling him out of the bed. “Gotta push through, little guy. Nothing we can do about that, I’m so sorry.”

Ian rubbed his nose along Tony’s chest, his chubby hands pulling his shirt in so he could drool down on it.

“Lovely,” Tony commented, smiling. He took Ian with him as he walked up and down the room. His eyes fell on the door leading to the reading room, and following a sudden thought, he walked into it.

He hadn’t been here often. They had repurposed the room as a small library and art room when it was clear that a gym up here wouldn’t be meeting Steve’s standards. It was mostly Steve’s room, had always been, and after only a step across the threshold, Steve’s scent reached Tony’s nose.

There was a grand piano at the corner of the room, and something drew Tony in. With a low breath, he put Ian down on the large rug next to the piano, watched him rolling back and forth on his tummy for a moment, before he heaved himself into a sitting position.

There were short tries when he raised himself on his feet with a hand on the reading chair. He didn’t quite walk yet, but Tony knew it wouldn’t be long.

“Been a while,” he said quietly as he sat down at the piano, opening the lid. “You’re the first I’m playing for in about twenty years. Hope you’re happy.”

He let his hands trail over the keyboards, just sitting like that for a good few minutes. The first sound was a deep moll, the second, too. Tony chuckled, shaking his head at himself.

“Trying to come up with something intellectual,” he told Ian, “but the only thing I remember is _Frosty the Snowman_.”

His son looked at him with his big azure blue eyes that were one hundred percent Steve’s, and smiled. A real smile, all big and happy.

“Yeah, I know. You won’t mind, and you won’t laugh at daddy for how bad he is at this. Alright.”

With that, he let his fingers trail over the keyboards once more and played the first tune, then the second. His memory caught up with him fast, and he smiled as the melody echoed across the room.

He was so immersed in the music that was far too happy for what he felt, that he didn’t hear the soft steps behind him. Only when Ian squealed and asked “Baba, up-py?”, Tony’s fingers slipped.

It was then that he noticed a shadow in the doorway. Tony stopped the tune, and looked over his shoulder, and even though he knew, he still wasn’t prepared for the sight in front of him.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt you,” Steve eventually said as he met Tony’s gaze. He could almost see the clockwork of Steve’s mind, turning, twisting. The mask was still on his face, but his facial expressions were the same. “That… it was beautiful.”

Tony kept… _staring_ for a few more moments, before he cleared his throat. “It was Frosty the Snowman.”

The corner of Steve’s mouth lifted in a half-smile. “Still beautiful.”

“Ba-ba,” Ian demanded some attention and from the pitch of his voice, Tony had a feeling he would be throwing a fit in about four seconds if Steve didn’t pick him up before that.

“Can I…?” Steve asked, his voice raspy as he stared down at Ian, who was raising his chubby little arms expectantly.

Something ugly in Tony twisted around his heart. How had they gotten here, where Steve wasn’t even sure if he could pick up his own son?

“Of course you can,” he whispered.

Without waiting another second, Steve bent down. He pulled Ian against his chest, peppering kisses over his face with a smiling mouth. His body suddenly seemed to thrive with life, as Ian molded perfectly against him.

“Papa missed you so much, baby,” Steve murmured, his hand cradling Ian’s head as he swayed him around.

Ian didn’t seem to care much for the mask on Steve’s face. It didn’t trick him in the slightest, he knew exactly who that person in front of him was. He did look a little confused, though, as his hands settled on Steve’s cheeks, pinching the material.

“Can I take it off?” Steve asked with a glance at Tony, and he only managed to get a nod in, before Ian had already pulled until the nano fabric came off.

And then there he was. The confusion on Ian’s face all but evaporated, and he smiled brightly as Steve rubbed his nose against Ian’s.

“My beautiful boy, you’ve gotten so big,” Steve murmured, kissing Ian again, and Tony could’ve stood there forever, just watching them.

“Are you really here?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Steve whispered, glancing up cautiously. “I missed you both so much.”

“Did someone see you coming here?”

“No,” Steve shook his head firmly. “I wouldn’t risk that.”

“Ba-ba go?” Ian asked, demanding some attention from his father. Steve looked so startled for a moment that Tony couldn’t hold back a fond smile.

“Did you just say a sentence?” Steve asked Ian, then remembered the question. “No I won’t go, darling, I… God, he learned to form sentences… and I missed that.”

“You did,” Tony confirmed. At first, he wanted to leave it at that, but his heart wouldn’t let him. “But… there’s still plenty he will learn in the next months.”

“There is?” Steve asked, and they both knew what he was really asking.

Tony bit his lower lip, and nodded. “I hope so.”

 

* * *

 

Together, they walked into the kitchen. The way over was pointedly silent, and Tony kept shaking his head slightly, utterly confused.

He had no idea why Natasha had suddenly decided that this was the best time to bring them back together. Either she knew something he didn’t, or… or she had sensed that Tony had reached his breaking point.

Ian was all but hanging in Steve’s arms, his arms flailing wildly as he giggled with every step Steve took. His teething pains seemed forgotten momentarily, pure unadulterated joy buzzing through his tiny limbs.

“Baba nose,” he said, then pressed a finger against Steve’s nose.

“Yes, that’s papa’s nose,” Steve confirmed with a proud smile. “Don’t kids usually walk before they talk?”

“He’s a clever guy,” Tony said simply. He walked over to the bar as soon as they had arrived in the penthouse. He stared down at the bottles there for a moment, before he served himself a water, filling a second glass right after. Minutes passed, until Steve stepped up to him.

“You alright?” he asked quietly.

Tony kept staring at the scotch as he downed the water in one huge gulp.

“I never took a drink,” he whispered. “But _God_ did I want to.”

Steve sighed. He neared Tony cautiously, and wrapped his free arm around him from behind. He didn’t say anything to that, only held Tony, and Tony dropped his head against Steve’s chest, simply—if only for a moment—basking in the fact that the three of them were together again.

“And Natasha?” Tony asked.

“She’s with Bucky,” Steve said. “Said she’d come back, soon.”

“Glad they get a bit of time together,” Tony replied.

“Yeah…” Steve breathed.

There was a heavy moment of silence between them, only lightened up by Ian’s joyful babbling.

Tony dropped his gaze to the floor and sighed. “I shouldn’t have said all that,” he muttered. “In Siberia. Not to Bucky, and not to you. That was… uncalled for.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed, as he moved a bit until he could look at Tony. “Why not?” he asked. “You were right. I could’ve stopped this by signing it.”

“Yes, but you were trying to show me that we couldn’t let them put all of this down on us just like this, and you were right about it. I should’ve talked to you sooner.”

He dropped his gaze to their hands, Steve’s gently folding the fingers of Tony’s left one until they made a loose fist around Ian’s hand, concealing it from view.

“All you wanted was a chance to save our team—”

“I wanted to keep our life intact,” Tony admitted. “Look… moral ambiguity aside, you did everything you could to keep Bucky alive. You didn’t always analyze every step you took, but that’s you—your heart always leads each of your steps. And… my head’s running a mile a second, so I often forget to stop and ask myself if it’s truly the right thing to do.”

Slowly, an amused smile reached Steve’s face. “I really think I should feel insulted that you keep saying you’re the brains in this relationship.”

“Well, if _you_ were the brains, I’d be the heart, and I don’t think this world would survive _that_ for even half a day.”

Steve stepped closer, and his expression turned very serious. “You have a huge heart. That you’re trying to solve every problem with rational thinking, it doesn’t change the fact that your heart always leads your way, too. You agreed to work with Ross because you saw what our powers could do if they weren’t controlled. You… have the biggest heart of us all.” A self-deprecating smile rose to his lips. “And where does that leave me?”

Words abandoned him completely. Tony swallowed down the lump in his throat and stepped closer. He opened his mouth to tell Steve how very wrong he was, but Steve momentarily pressed a finger over his lips, his eyes boring into him.

“However much we could’ve dealt with this differently…” Steve went on haltingly. “It wouldn’t have escalated like this if it hadn’t been for Zemo. We’ve made decisions the other couldn’t really agree with before. Killian… Pierce… we had our disagreements, and I’m convinced we would’ve sorted this out, too. I—I spent a long while thinking all of this through, and yes, you should’ve told me as soon as you knew about the Accords, but I should’ve also listened to you more when you tried to reason with me. In my book, we were both at fault.”

Tony’s eyes were closed. All the arguments, all the conversations they’d had, all his memories of Steve—good and bad—passed through Tony’s mind in that instant. And Steve was right—somehow, none of it mattered very much, anymore.

“That’s what you get for marrying a bullhead like me,” Tony whispered.

Steve smiled. “Two’s company.”

His hands slid over Steve’s shoulders, passing behind the back of his gray t-shirt as he wrapped his arms around him and Ian more fully. Steve was shivering, his muscles clenched tight beneath the unexpected embrace. Beneath the thin cotton, Tony could feel his firm chest, the fast beating of his heart, and he stared up at him.

“I just… don’t want to be your roadblock. I don’t want to watch you fight something you believe in.”

“Don’t.” Steve’s voice was so soft he could hardly hear him, and so hoarse he could barely understand. “Tony, you’re a lot of things, but—my _roadblock_? Heck, don’t you see? Without you, I… I would’ve never made it here. I was stuck, and you pulled me out. You gave me a _home_ , you gave me all I have. I… the past weeks proved that I’m lost without you.”

He cupped Tony’s cheek reverently.

“I was just as lost,” Tony admitted.

Steve smiled. “Next time something like this happens, we’ll know how to deal with it, and we’ll find a compromise before things can go south.”

“Together?” Tony asked with a slight quirk of his lips.

“Together,” Steve confirmed.

Tony took a deep breath, and buried his fingers in Steve’s shirt, _finally_ pulling him in. The kiss that followed was honey and tears, Steve’s nose resting against Tony’s cheek, his fingers threaded in the hair at his neck. His lips were softer than Tony remembered. Steve melted like molasses against his skin.

 _This_ … this was home.

Steve pulled away first and after a breathless second or two he opened his eyes. “Tony,” he breathed, a watery smile gracing his face. His touch was soft and exploratory. He kissed Tony’s upper lip, his lower lip, his chin; his hand slid up his arm, palming his cheek as his mouth found his again. The gentle invasion of his tongue into Tony’s mouth finally broke Steve out of his stunned silence, and he melted into him with a soft breath.

“Daaaa-da,” Ian whined. Both of his hands were slapping against their shoulders. His voice clearly said how much he wasn’t pleased with the lack of attention, and both Tony and Steve drew back, chuckling as they pressed their foreheads together.

 

* * *

 

The rest of the evening went by so smoothly Tony often found himself wondering if he should pinch himself in the arm and see if he was still lying in his bed, dreaming that all of this was happening.

Ian’s screaming-fit at bedtime and the way he had thrown his milk bottle at Steve’s chest, thus spilling half its content over his shirt clearly proved him wrong, but apart from those very real moments, Tony felt as though he lived in a haze.

Steve’s gaze often drifted back to him, lingering, as if he was going through similar motions. They fixed a small dinner together, with one of them either handling Ian while the other cooked or the other way around. Their routine clearly still worked like a finely oiled machine, and it had Tony wonder if, maybe, they could just pick up where they’d left off.

He wanted to, with every fiber of his being, a big part of him was just too afraid to hope.

“You weren’t kidding with his teething,” Steve told him quietly as he walked back into the baby room. He’d fetched a new shirt from their closet—one that wasn’t drenched in baby milk—and came to a stand next to the crib.

“It’s gotten worse in the last week. I ordered a few pain killers—homeopathic stuff,” Tony added hastily at Steve’s raised brow, “and toys and whatnot. Vi said he took the cake in this department, most of the time, it’s not that bad for babies.”

“Poor darling,” Steve murmured as he looked down at Ian’s sleeping face. It looked like he had calmed down for now, his breathing even, his features soft and without any tension.

“He missed you,” Tony said and slowly, he entwined his right hand with Steve’s left. “He asked for you, and cried when you weren’t there to sing him to sleep. I tried to do what I could, and we handled it well enough, but…” He glanced sideways, and hated himself a little for sounding as vulnerable as he did then. “I don’t want to do this without you. I don’t want him to stop expecting you to be there in the evenings. I don’t want to remember your recipes for him, I want to trust that you’re there to cook them for him. I want someone there to remind me that it’s not the end of the world when he has a bit of temperature, or if he’s mad for me for not giving him what he wants, I… I want you there. With me.”

Steve’s eyes had gotten watery. “I want that, too. Trust me, that’s… _everything_ I’ve ever wanted.”

Tony nodded, and realized that the light grasp of their hands had turned fierce and almost painful. Tony didn’t mind. He turned sideways, his body seemingly on autopilot. He met Steve halfway. They wound their arms around their middles, breathing each other in as they kissed. Steve’s hands were moving over Tony’s back and a low groan escaped Tony when the tips of Steve’s fingers dug into his scalp. Their lips brushed along each other’s, and _dammit_ , but Tony had really missed kissing Steve.

Kissing had always been a full-body thing for Steve. He basically molded himself against Tony, their bodies fitting together so perfectly. His hands now cupped Tony’s cheeks, framing his face reverently as he familiarized himself with Tony again.

Tony felt a growing tightness in his groin, and it took a lot of willpower for him to put a bit of pressure on Steve’s chest, signaling him to stop.

Steve looked adorably put-out as he glanced at Tony in question. His lips were red and decidedly kiss-swollen and Tony almost leaned in again to mess him up a bit more.

“Not here,” Tony reminded him with a pointed glance down to Ian’s crib.

“Right,” Steve agreed, obviously a bit dazed with it all. Instead of letting go, though, he drew Tony in again, pulling him tight against his chest before hauling him up with an arm under his ass.

In a matter of seconds, Tony found himself hanging in Steve’s hold. He chuckled against Steve’s lips, barely noticing that they left the room with the way Steve’s kisses were robbing him of each and every brain cell he possessed.

They didn’t get far. Steve made it just around the corner of their bedroom, before he pressed Tony against the next wall. With his foot he made to kick the door to the baby room shut, and Tony only just remembered to close it quietly with an intervening hand.

“Is this…” Tony pressed his eyes shut.

“Real?” Steve continued as he kissed down Tony’s throat hungrily. The one hand that wasn’t still holding Tony up came to rest on his arc reactor. “Feels real to me.”

Steve’s scent was in his nostrils and his taste was in his mouth. Yes, yes it was real.

“Tony, I—”

“Kiss me more.” Tony’s hands linked around Steve’s neck in a blink. Steve’s kisses peeled Tony’s reservations away without trying; drinking him in as though he’d been starving for him. As though the distance between them had been slowly killing him as well.

Eventually, Tony motioned for Steve to move forward. As hot as it was that Steve could do this against the wall with no effort, he really needed to touch him and touch him _everywhere_. With some reluctance, Steve set into motion. Tony had a feeling that right now, Steve would follow him off the edge of the world if he asked it of him.

He lowered them both on the bed, not allowing an inch to come between them for even a second. All of Tony’s reactions were on autopilot. Steve met him for another fierce, hungry kiss, his mouth loving him for all he was worth. And just like that, the world around them vanished. The taste of Steve was in his mouth again, his tongue between his lips. Steve’s fingers tunneled through his hair, his teeth nipping at Tony’s lips, trying to consume him whole. And Tony was helpless to do anything but let him.

“You still love me?” Steve asked between kisses, but Tony was unwilling to let him go long enough to answer him. He wanted to savor this. Hell, he wanted to freeze this moment. And yet, the part of him that needed to eradicate Steve’s insecurities was stronger.

So Tony nodded. “Of course I do,” he told him firmly. “I love you. I _love_ you.”

After that, Steve seemingly couldn’t stop touching him. And Tony fully understood. It’d been too long since Steve’s skin had been under his hands. And before he could blink, his shirt had vanished and Steve was tugging at his pants.

In the face of Steve’s impatience, Tony grinned in spite of himself and let his hands wander beneath Steve’s shirt. Following a thought, he pinched his nipples.

Steve groaned, his whole body twitching momentarily. He _loved_ it when Tony did that. Some things never changed.

“ _Tony_ ,” Steve breathed, grinding his hips against Tony’s with a desperate movement.

Tony opened the zipper of Steve’s pants, and pushed a hand inside his boxers, pumping the length of Steve’s cock in slow, tantalizing strokes. Tightening his grip around his erection, Tony pushed Steve on his back. Steve let him have his way and only leaned up on his elbows somewhat. He drew his own tee over his head, while Tony rid both of them of the rest of their clothes.

When Steve was finally lying naked before him, Tony took a good few seconds to simply look at him. “I missed you so fucking much.”

“You got me,” Steve whispered, and reached for him. “Come ‘ere.”

“No,” Tony said, palming Steve’s cock as he settled his body on top of Steve’s legs. “First, I want to get to know you all over again.”

He kneeled above Steve, his fingers kneaded his sac delicately, as though any pressure would break him—which was ridiculous of course, he was _Steve_ , but Tony couldn’t help himself. And for the first time in weeks, he felt completely at ease, because he knew he could just do what felt right—because he knew Steve would _let_ him.

Tony ground his own middle against Steve’s, his hand favoring him with a good squeeze. Steve gasped lightly, his chest rising and falling in shaky motions. Slowly, Tony leaned forward, his fist sliding up and down Steve’s length. He paused for a moment, savoring this, before he bowed down, licking Steve from balls to tip and sucking his length into his mouth. His lips brushed just slightly along him, his mouth caressing him with tenderness. Eventually, he was bobbing his head with slow leisure. His fingers gently massaged the base of Steve’s erection as his mouth trailed the length of him back and forth.

When Tony risked a glance upwards, Steve’s eyes were shut tight. Both of his hands were twisted in the bed sheets, and the sight alone had Tony’s bones shivering in awe-laced ecstasy. A moment later, however, his eyes flew open again, and Steve stared down at him, his hands falling to Tony’s shoulders. “Up,” he demanded. “Need you up here.”

Tony left Steve’s cock with a parting kiss, and was in his arms the next second, their mouths once more ravaging each other. Steve’s tongue had a mind to conquer, and Tony was hopeless to offer anything but complete surrender.

Tony knew that no amount of mutual apologizing could ever erase what had happened. The past couldn’t be touched—couldn’t be redone. But it was over now. There was nothing to gain from looking back but appreciation of what they had right now.

“Want you,” Steve breathed against his mouth. In a blink, his legs were bound around Tony’s waist, his hands under his hips, and he dragged him up his chest and in position.

Right now, Tony’d let Steve take him wherever and however he wanted. His body burned with need. All restraint was gone—reservation chucked successfully out the window. Because wallowing in the past never did anyone any good. He’d hurt Steve, Steve’d hurt him, but they were still together. He was still in his arms.

And Steve loved him.

“Get in me,” Tony breathed, thrusting his erection down against Steve’s desperately. “I need—”

“I know,” Steve replied. He blindly reached for their bed-drawer, followed by a hand that slipped behind Tony’s rear. His lubed middle finger rubbed him tenderly before diving inside. “Christ, you’re hot.”

“Which you should know,” Tony joked on a grunt. He bucked against the intruding finger, shoving down against Steve’s cock while he let Steve slowly open him up. “God, fuck me,” he ground out after many minutes, when Steve still had too-many goddamn fingers in him.

A few months apart, and he was back to overdoing the prep thing.

“No fucking,” Steve scolded softly and all-too-chastely kissed his cheek. “I’m not gonna ‘fuck’ you, Tony. It’s—”

Tony’s eyes softened a bit. “Sorry. I meant love me. _Love_ me,” he said, his lips brushing Steve’s. “Please, I’m ready.”

“Yeah… yeah, okay,” Steve breathed. His left arm wrapped fully around Tony’s waist, holding him still as his other hand took hold of his own cock. Steve lubed himself up, then soaked up several delicious seconds in teasing him, rubbing his head along Tony’s opening until Tony’s body was wound so tight it was a wonder he hadn’t yet popped.

He wanted to bear _down_ already; every inch of him shook with strain, and he needed Steve inside him like he had never needed anything in his life.

“Look at me,” Steve whispered, and smiled at him. “I love you, you hear me?”

Tony nodded, every part of him wrung with emotions, and with a long, strangled moan of completion, Steve’s cock sank inside him. The remaining walls between them collapsed. Steve pulled him down on his chest fully, and there, with his heat scorching every inch of Tony’s body, he was whole once more.

“ _Oh_ ,” Steve breathed, once he was fully settled, his brows drawn tight together. “You’re tight.”

Tony tossed his head back and his fingers clutched Steve’s shoulders. “Yeah, well,” he mumbled with all remaining eloquence. “Been a while.”

Months could as well have been years.

“Come on,” he whispered, struggling to get some movement going as he wiggled on top of Steve. “ _Move_.”

“I…” Steve started, his voice tense. “Give me a moment.”

“A moment?”

Steve huffed, and let his head fall down on the mattress, his eyes tightly shut. Only now Tony realized Steve’s other hand was buried deep into the bed sheets, his knuckles almost white.

“Steve?”

“You’re… _really damn_ tight, and I don’t want this to be over before it even starts. Just… give me a moment.”

Tony snorted, then laughed; he just couldn’t help himself. Usually, Steve was able to hold back his release as long as he wanted. He always, stubbornly, made sure Tony came first, without—seemingly—any strain whatsoever.

Somehow, the fact that he was about to pop right away had Tony love this even more.

“Don’t you dare laugh at me,” Steve said and Tony groaned when he felt him twitch in warning.

“Never,” he promised with a grin, even as his hips started moving.

“ _Tony_ ,” Steve scolded, gripping his hips a little tighter to make him stop.

Tony didn’t let himself be swayed. He continued his movements, and Steve’s cock began a slow slip and slide from his hole, as Tony clenched around him fiercely.

“You’re… you’re such an ass,” Steve groaned. “I’m really close, not kidding.”

“So be close,” Tony murmured seductively as he leaned in to softly bite into Steve’s earlobe. “I don’t mind.”

Steve moaned again. His hands didn’t move for another few moments, before he seemed to lose that battle of will with himself and lifted Tony slightly off of him. He surged into him again, and, true to his words, it didn’t even take a dozen of thrusts before he tensed, and Tony felt him come inside him.

A small smile touched Tony’s face and his lips found Steve’s. Damn, he’d _missed_ this. His muscles kept contracting around Steve to make it as good as possible, as he kept rising and sinking down again. “Just a little more,” he whispered. “You can do it.”

Steve’s brow found Tony’s and his hold on his hips tightened. “I’ll get you back for that,” he promised, and then, with a grimace that almost looked painful, he suddenly arched his pelvis into Tony, fighting to shove himself deeply into him whenever Tony pulled away.

His eyes were wide and his heart was open, and the whole of him belonged to Tony again.

“Counting on it,” Tony grunted and his eyes fell shut as Steve’s thrusts grew harder. He’d never even softened, not for a second. Instead, he was really pumping himself into Tony now. His chest was pressed against Tony’s chest and his mouth was slotted against Tony’s neck, probably decorating him with a handful of hickeys.

It’d be a lie to say that Steve’s possessiveness wasn’t still a massive turn-on.

“Uh— _Fuck,_ ” Tony cried, arching against the headboard with both hands pressed against its surface. One of Steve’s hands had somehow sneaked behind him, putting a bit of pressure against the already-stretched skin of Tony’s entrance.

Steve’s grunts grew louder in reply. He drove into him with weeks of repression and need coursing off his body.

He was so fucking glorious and he didn’t even know it.

“Touch…” Tony pleaded, “please touch me.”

Steve nodded. He rocked him further against the headboard and slid his hand between their bodies. His fingers brushed Tony’s cock as his thrusts grew even harder.

Tony choked a sob, bucking wildly against him. “Oh yes. _Yes_. Steve…”

“Come,” Steve panted. “Wanna feel you come around me.”

With that, Steve raised himself up into a sitting position, only to turn them both around and push Tony down on his back. The next thing Tony knew, Steve had wound both of his legs around his middle, and his body pressed him into the mattress. He poured a moan into Tony’s mouth as they kissed and Tony felt himself clamp hard around Steve, tremors rocking through his body. His whole body trembled even as waves of a powerful orgasm washed over him, suctioning Steve inside him with desperation. Steve’s fingers surely left some bruises on his arms with how tight he was holding him, but Tony couldn’t be bothered. Every mark Steve left on him would be something to cherish later.

His body’s explosion was sudden but complete, and Steve didn’t allow him any reprieve. He kept thrusting into Tony, massaging his cock, obviously determined to milk this moment for all its worth.

“Ste-eve,” Tony groaned loudly, overstimulated, overwhelmed, over- _everything_.

With a last, trembling sigh, Steve came inside Tony once more. And when his glossy, sated eyes met his, Tony’s could have sworn he’d kissed the sun.

There wasn’t an inch of him that didn’t tremble with awe. “Perfect,” he mumbled, completely sated and feeling full in so many wonderful ways.

“Not perfect,” Steve murmured, and smiled at him as drew him into a hug. “Just us.”

 

* * *

 

Steve was asleep in his arms.

Tony had slept, too, which surprised him. He’d settled into bed beside Steve—awash in his scent and positively buzzing on the high of his warmth—convinced that sleep would be impossible. Not with Steve once more in his bed, his taste in his mouth, his perfect skin just inches from his eager fingers. He’d wagered he’d spend the rest of night just watching him. Memorizing the way he looked and felt at his side. Under his sheets. Peaceful. Quiet. Those lips he’d kissed so thoroughly taunting him with their proximity. He’d lain there, trying to memorize it all, knowing in his heart that Steve couldn’t stay for long if they didn’t want to risk someone finding out.

Thus, in his mind, sleep was far away. Unattainable. Not while Steve was finally with him.

He was wrong. The second his head hit the pillow, he was out cold. Emotionally drained. Physically exhausted. More at peace than he’d felt in months. Instead of awkward and new, falling asleep with Steve at his side had been breathtakingly natural. As though every night since Siberia had been nothing more than waiting for his husband to come home.

He was wide-awake now, and Steve was still with him. It was daylight. Judging by how drowsy he was, Tony wagered it was relatively early. Steve’s hand rested on Tony’s bare chest, close to the arc reactor. His left leg still draped over Tony’s thighs.

Tony felt everything. Felt Steve’s blood rushing beneath his skin, the echoes of his heartbeat, and the gentle wisps of his breath. The molten heat of his half-hard center pressed against his hip. He would occasionally shift and murmur something, but he never made a move to leave his arms.

Tony still remembered vividly how Steve could inspire so much grief. And yet, his love for Steve couldn’t die. It was the one thing he knew was everlasting. His love for Steve would survive him, the world—the whole damn universe.

Tony was more than aware that it could all end when the blanket of night no longer covered them. There was no reason to hope this morning would hold any solutions to their situation.

Or… there was no _reason_ , but there _was_ hope.

Tony sighed, brushing hair out of Steve’s face with his free hand, his lips unable to keep from stealing a kiss off his brow. He loved Steve like this. He loved him always, of course, but he especially loved him like this. Cuddled against him, peaceful, at rest, and so trusting of him. So incredibly trusting. Just allowing Tony to hold him like this placed more trust in his arms than anything he could have imagined.

“I love you so much,” he whispered into Steve’s hair.

Steve shifted at that, but didn’t awaken. And the feel of him moving against Tony’s body, so innocent in his intent, so completely weightless in his rest, unwound Tony from the core.

Long minutes later, Steve woke up. His sleepy eyes opened and settled on Tony, a small, content smile grazing his lips.

“Good morning,” Tony whispered.

“Morning,” Steve mumbled, moving even closer. A comfortable silence covered them like a blanket. Just being here together, it was enough.

“If I’d just stay here,” Steve whispered after a moment, as if a secret, “in this room, no one would know, don’t you think?”

Tony huffed. “I can’t care for you the whole time. You’d starve.”

“You could bring me food.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Tony commented, brushing a finger along Steve’s spine and smiling when he felt him shiver. “You eat more than a pack of hungry wolves per day. That much food wouldn’t go unnoticed.”

Steve pouted adorably.

“Of course we could always say Vision has a growth spurt,” Tony mused. “No one knows what he’s eating anyway.”

Steve smiled. “Or we’ll put up a garden outside. I could plant tomatoes, and salad.”

Tony chuckled. “Sure, have a goat and a few chicken while you’re at it.”

Steve snorted, then—on the next beat—his expression fell. “We’d never have to leave this place…”

Tony’s heart missed a beat. “Sweetheart…”

“I don’t wanna miss him growing up. I don’t wanna wake up alone anymore.” He pulled Tony against him. “Please don’t make me leave.”

“Steve—”

“You and Ian, you’re everything to me.”

“Shhh…” Tony cooed. “You know it’s not possible.”

“But—”

“We’re stronger than this, you know that. You didn’t leave me when I messed up with Ultron. I won’t leave you. We’re a team, a family, we fight, we mess up, we get over it, remember? I won’t leave you.”

“You said we could work on the Accords,” Steve said, sounding hopeful. “Make compromises. Is it too late to negotiate? I told you I’ve read the draft, it’s… you did a good job with it.”

“No, it’s not too late,” Tony amended, his voice cautious. “It’ll be more difficult, especially when we bring Bucky back into the picture.”

“I thought he was cleared of all charges concerning Vienna.”

“He was,” Tony agreed. “He still hurt people while he was on trial. But it’s not impossible. We might have to let a little more time pass before we do anything.”

Steve stared at him numbly, and Tony could hear all those dark thoughts running through his beautiful head.

“Don’t,” Tony said.

“Don’t what?”

“That look. Stop with the look. I know that look, so stop what you’re thinking. Do you really think I would’ve invited you in if I didn’t think we could make this work?”

“I don’t… I’m just so tired of being without you.”

“I know, but I’ve never known anything that could defeat you, Steve,” Tony said slowly. “ _Never_. And this might go on a little longer, but I know you’ll push through, and I will, too.”

“But… Tony—”

“We can’t undo what’s been done. We _can’t_. But we’re here now, and I love you so much it’s almost too much to handle. I can’t promise you that you can come back home in a day, or a week, or even another month. But I promise you I will still be here when it happens.”

Something inside Steve’s desperate gaze shifted then. The despair slowly leaked out of his eyes, and was replaced with something that warmed Tony from the inside.

Determination.

“Can we stay in contact?” he asked. “I know Ross is still monitoring you, but…”

“I’ll work on something,” Tony promised. Ross thought he was very clever with his supervision nonsense, but it wouldn’t be much of a problem to outsmart him. "You can see him and talk to him every day. And you’ll be back with us before you know it.”

Steve clutched him tighter. “Okay… I trust you.”

The words embraced Tony’s heart, and he knew then if he'd never known before: Whatever lay ahead was more than worth it. Whatever they had to face would be a fate shared. He felt the strength of Steve’s love encompass him wholly.

He sweetly pressed his brow to Steve’s. “I trust you, too.”

Everything else didn't matter, then. Steve smiled into his eyes and Tony knew they would chase down the shadows that haunted them.

Until then, they had all the truth they needed in each other. Even with miles to go before they could see each other again.

It wasn’t over. How could it? He would see Steve again. It was only time. Time until they would get it all back—everything the world had taken away from them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it folks! Last chapter :) I will post a Bonus chapter in a week or two, but otherwise, this is it. I know a few asked if I would solve the issues Civil War created and I did, in parts, but I also didn't, because I really want to be able to eventually continue this series when MCU moves on to Infinity War.  
> I will probably add a few one shots to this verse in the meantime, maybe even a short story that's post-Civil War. But for now, I hope very much that you enjoyed it! Thanks for your comments <3


	12. Paradise (Bonus Chapter)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the promised Bonus Chapter! There's some non-Stony sexual situations in here (You may all guess which pairing it is), so if you mind that, you might wanna skip this Bonus Chapter, it won't strictly be necessary for the next installment of the verse, but I'd recommend to just skip those passages and read the rest, since there's still some minor plot-development in here.
> 
> Thanks again to my lovely beta-reader morphia, and to civilwarbrokemyheart for proofreading the Russian sentence. And once more thanks to all of you for commenting and giving me your support. I'm honestly very relieved there weren't any Civil War-rants going on here, as I know it is a sensitive thing for lots of people, so thanks for sticking with me throughout the whole thing <3

**Steve | Bucky**

 

Tony’s message arrived at noon.

Steve had forgotten what date it was—he knew that it was late-November, but the hours blurred together, and every day was an endless repetition of training, and reading, and watching the news.

The only moments when he felt like he was still the man he’d been before the Sokovia Accords, were whenever Tony called. It wasn’t every day, but close to it, and Steve lived for those hours when he could watch Tony and Ian via the video feeds, have Ian giggle at him, and blabber those few new words he’d learned recently.

His family was still there, somewhere, and they loved him, and that was all that mattered.

Still, when Steve received Tony’s message that afternoon, he had to blink several times, rereading the line over and over again, so he would believe it.

_What would u say if I made plans to come by for Thanksgiving?_

A smile crept up onto Steve’s lips and made itself at home there. Weeks had passed since he’d departed from New York, and there wasn’t one minute when he didn’t miss Tony.

_I’d say I should go and try to find some supermarket in the jungle,_ he typed and pressed send. Then, grimacing, he fast-typed another line. _Can’t tell you how happy this makes me. Can you really come here?_

_Yes_ , Tony sent back. _We have to take a few detours, but my alibi’s solid. We’ll be there tomorrow noon. I’ll bring the supplies._

Steve bit his lower lip. _Can’t wait._

_Good. I’ll bring a few guests_ _, too._ _And I got a surprise for u._

Another message appeared on his display. _Two, actually. And another in my pants._

Steve snorted, and he was probably grinning like a loon now. He only schooled his expression when he noticed Bucky and Sam staring from the couch in front of him. They were lounging there in sweatpants with a bowl of cereals each, and the only reminder that something was severely not right in this scenario was Bucky’s missing arm.

“What,” Steve prompted.

“Nothing,” Sam said, raising his hands in defense. “Just couldn’t decide if your dork-smile was a result of Stark sending you a baby pic, or a dick pic, and the fact that I can’t tell the difference is kind of disturbing.”

Bucky released a huff, clearly trying not to laugh. “If it’d been the latter, he would’ve already excused himself because he needed to ‘research’ something.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “It’s neither,” he said. “And thanks for that.” He cleared his throat. “Tony actually told me he’ll visit for Thanksgiving.”

That had Sam’s eyebrows rise to his hairline, and almost immediately, he glanced to Bucky.

“That’s great, Stevie,” Bucky said simply, but he was not quite meeting Steve’s eyes anymore.

 

* * *

 

True to his promise, Tony arrived at T’Challa’s palace around noon next day. T’Challa was there to greet him, and in under one minute, Ian roused the first laugh Steve had ever heard T’Challa make out of him.

Yeah, he definitely inherited Tony’s ways of charming people.

Behind Tony, Vision, Rhodey and Natasha stepped out of the jet, followed by a gangly kid who looked around with widened eyes. It took Steve a moment to put two and two together, since he’d never met the guy, but it could only be Peter Parker.

A pang of guilt rushed through him as Steve remembered the punches and kicks he’d dished out on the kid—and he was really only that, a kid.

After that, it was a series of hugs and awkward first handshakes. Steve even went so far and pressed a rather sloppy kiss on Natasha’s cheek, when she approached him.

“You’re a slob,” she chided him, and tried to look disgusted. She failed, however, when Ian stretched his chubby arms into her direction. That was one of those amazing things Steve had learned about Natasha in those last years: She really, absolutely, unashamedly _loved_ children.

And Ian loved her, too, babbling away excitedly when Natasha asked him questions, calling her ‘Asha’, ‘Asha’, over and over again while he made grabby hands at her. Two-word-sentences still seemed to be it, for now, but Steve was sure that rather sooner or later, he’d really be talking their ears off.

He only hoped he’d be there with him when it happened.

Eventually, once they were up in the living quarters, Natasha passed Ian back to Steve, waiting till he’d pulled him securely against his chest. “I’ll leave you three alone,” she said. A second kiss on Ian’s forehead. “Увидимся позже, солнышко.” _See you later, sunshine._

“He should be in his room, second floor,” Steve called after her, and barely caught her smile before she vanished behind the corner.

Bucky hadn’t wanted to come down here, and the others had agreed that they didn’t want to spoil their reunion.

A beat of silence.

“He doing well?” Tony asked, his voice pointedly neutral, as he walked around the kitchen counter. Next to him, right on the floor, stood about three huge boxes full of food, as well as a container with a whole turkey.

“Bucky?”

Tony’s jaw twitched lightly. He nodded. “Yeah.”

“He’s doing alright,” Steve answered. “As much as we all are.” He sighed, gently brushing his nose along Ian’s hair, inhaling his scent. God, he’d missed him, in a way he couldn’t have fathomed a year ago. “You don’t have to see him, you know,” he told Tony.

Tony nodded. “Thanks, but I’d actually hoped to talk to him later. And I kinda repaired his arm, so…” He shrugged, clearly trying for nonchalance.

Steve raised a brow, smiling. He hadn’t expected that since Tony had never once mentioned the broken arm. Steve hadn’t even been sure if he’d brought it back home from Siberia. “That’s great. I’m sure he’ll be very happy about that.”

“Maybe. We’ll see. Wouldn’t be surprised if he’s giving me the cold shoulder.”

“He won’t.”

Tony nodded once more, casting Steve a small smile in return.

_You didn’t do anything wrong_ , Steve thought, but couldn’t bring himself to say it. Tony wouldn’t want to hear it, and Steve didn’t want to darken the mood. He knew—not so much by actual words from Tony, but by all the things he hadn’t said—that he was still wrecking his brains over the hits and words he’d inflicted upon Bucky in Siberia.

When Tony didn’t say anything else, Steve cleared his throat. “So, you said something about surprises?”

“Right,” Tony said, his mood immediately brightening. They both plopped down on the bar stools at the kitchen counter, and Steve bounced Ian on his knee. “Well, for one, I’m going to cook you the world’s most amazing Thanksgiving menu. Pepper taught me, and I practiced, and no, you don’t get a say in it. And second, well…” He looked at Ian, pressing a quick kiss on his rosy cheek as he took him out of Steve’s arms. “You wanna show papa?”

Ian bashfully turned his head to the side, burying it into Tony’s shoulder. Almost indiscernible, he shook his head.

Something in Steve’s insides churned painfully, realizing that Ian might have, at some point, developed this distance to him, however minor it might be.

“You don’t have to, baby,” he told him, petting his head gently, as he tried to school his expression so he wouldn’t look disappointed.

“He’s just nervous,” Tony interjected. “Come on, darling, I know you wanna, you said so yourself. And I know for a fact that it’ll make papa very happy.”

“Tony…” Steve said lowly, not wanting to pressure Ian into anything, but on the next beat, he turned his head sideways, glancing up at Steve as he clearly considered the situation.

"Appy?" he asked him with wide eyes.

"Only if you want."

His hands pressed against Tony’s chest, and he smacked his lips while Tony put him down on the floor.

“Go over there,” Tony ordered Steve, and pointed to the ground in front of the stove, a few meters away. He kept one hand securely linked with Ian’s, but otherwise, Ian was standing on his own two feet.

Once he’d gained his balance, Ian glanced up at Steve, and… took a step forward.

“Oh my…” Steve said, staring at Ian, who very slowly started to walk up to him. He was flailing, but regained his stance pretty quickly. A few steps in, Tony let go of his hand, and Ian just kept going. Eyes wide, he _walked_ , and Steve—with a huge smile on his lips—took one step back when he was sure Ian would manage those few more inches as well. There, he slouched down, squatting on the floor with a broad grin, and took Ian’s stretched arms in his hands when he’d reached him.

Immediately, he raised his son into the air, laughing and pressing kisses against his cheeks. “You can _walk_ , sweetheart. I’m so proud of you.”

“Poud?” Ian asked and giggled when Steve peppered his face with more kisses.

“ _So_ proud,” Steve confirmed. “You did make me very happy. You always do.”

“Appy!” Ian squealed, when Steve cautiously bounced him upwards, so he was floating in the air for half a second.

With Ian in his arms, he walked over to Tony and leaned down, pulling him into a soft, indulgent kiss. They both started laughing when Ian’s hands once more pressed against their faces, squishing their cheeks.

_Home_ , he thought, letting himself dwell in this very moment.

 

* * *

 

Natasha closed her eyes as Bucky’s fingers dipped beneath the waistband of her pants, though he knew she tried not to. He traced the hem around her waist and grinned when she quickly reopened her eyes as he ground his middle against her, pressing her further into the mattress of his bed. His mouth was millimeters away from hers when he said, “You missed me. I know you did.”

“No,” she said, even though she made no move to resist him when his tongue darted out to seek entrance to her mouth. Despite her efforts to look and sound unaffected, Natasha always kissed with passion like no other, kissed like she didn’t know if Bucky would save her life or end it, biting and sucking, thrusting against him, exhaling on his lips before diving in again. Bucky almost got lost in the kisses, and that’s why he didn’t realize Natasha took advantage when he loosened his grip on her hands and quickly pushed him off of her.

Damn it.

Clearly, she wouldn’t be making it easy for him.

Then again, that wasn’t how they worked.

Natasha had simply sauntered into his room about ten minutes ago, without prior notice, without any sign that she would arrive in Wakanda. She had met Bucky’s incredulous stare with one of her slightly crooked smiles, and then she’d pulled him down on the bed by a finger in his collar.

After she’d shoved him off again, Bucky tumbled back on the bed, landing on his back, and Natasha had the audacity to smirk at him with rightful arrogance.

“I’m not so easy to get rid of,” Bucky said as he tried to sit up. He had a bit of a hard time, what with the way he only had one arm at the moment, and he grunted with annoyance as he heaved himself into a vertical position.

Natasha was still on her back next to him and she started to move, too quickly before he could grab her wrist. In the next instant, she was on her feet, but Bucky had followed her and managed to twist her hands behind her back, her chest against a wall.

He held her arms with one hand. If he’d still have his other arm, he would trail it down her stomach and right into her pants.

Alas.

“You can fight me all night long,” he said lowly and his mouth was on the back of her neck, “or we can move this back to the bed. So what’s it gonna be?”

“Why not both,” Natasha murmured, struggling against him briefly, her breath quickening when he let go of her hands, his fingers finally tracing around her stomach, then lower.

“Sounds good to me.”

With that, he yanked her pants and underwear over her hips. She gasped and leaned her forehead against the wall, biting her lip. He spun her around again, pressing her back against the wall and himself against her. She glared at him and one corner of his mouth lifted into a proud smile, his free hand dancing across her middle. “You’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever met,” he said softly as his fingers slipped between her legs.

Natasha bit her lower lip but couldn’t help the shuddering gasp that escaped her. “You… you haven’t exactly met that many women.”

Bucky kissed the side of her neck, and then dragged his tongue along her jugular as he spread her folds open with his fingers, breathing softly against her ear. “True,” he admitted. “And yet… I could’ve met a thousand women and I still wouldn’t want anyone but you.”

Natasha stared at him. Her expression was one hundred percent blank for a long beat, then an amused smile reached her beautiful red lips. Bucky’s brain momentarily zoned out as his fingers began stroking her, begging her body for those overwhelmed trembles, those soft gasps, those tiny moans, all those signs that meant Natasha was finally losing her poised demeanor. “No one would believe how sappy you can be,” she whispered.

“I have nothing to hide from you,” he whispered against her mouth as he slipped one finger inside.

She breathed against his lips as he slowly pulled out, keeping only the tip of his finger inside. Closing her eyes again, she gasped for air, lolling her head to the side.

She always did this, shielding her emotions when they threatened to show too much. He never berated her, knowing far too well that some habits were hard to let go of. And while it didn’t happen often, there were those moments when Natasha let him see all of her, and that was enough.

Dammit, he really wanted to brush her hair out of her face, wanted to cup her cheek, showing her that it was alright to open up right now, but his goddamn arm was gone.

Words, then.

Heaving a low breath, he mentally squared his shoulders. The words never came easy, not to him, but Natasha was always worth it. “I love you,” he said, “even when everything else had been a confusing mess in my head, that was always true.”

“You didn’t remember,” she said in typical Natasha fashion. They often came back to this—that he’d forgotten her.

Bucky smiled warmly. “I remember now. And I remember that I’ve always loved you.”

“Your memories are playing tricks on you,” she said, and her tone never wavered as she looked at him, her eyes didn’t get misty—she wasn’t the type to show her feelings, but he still saw it, the raw emotions in her green eyes, and he knew she loved him every bit as much as he loved her.

“No, they're not,” he disagreed. “And I’ll never forget anything about you ever again.”

Natasha pressed her hips against his, smiling coyly when she felt how hard he already was. “We’ll see about that.”

His nostrils flared and he grinned up at her, sneaking his hand up beneath her shirt to trace her spine with his fingers. Natasha was slowly grinding her naked body against his, licking his neck. “Fuck, Nat… I missed you.”

“It’s only been a few weeks.”

_Nothing compared to our past,_ she didn’t say, but Bucky heard her loud and clear.

“I know,” he said. “Just… being around Steve has been very depressing lately.”

“That’s over now,” Natasha promised and when Bucky raised a brow in question, she ground down again, harder, and chuckled with satisfaction when he groaned. His groan turned into a full-out moan of ecstasy when she bit down on his jugular. He took in shallow unneeded breaths, licked his lips and craned his neck back to give her more access, lifting his hips into hers as her movements became more determined.

Out of patience, he fisted his hand in her red hair, then pulled her up slightly and kissed her, breathing in through his nose as they both gasped. Letting go, he trailed his hand to her waist, then down to her ass to push her into his erection. They broke the kiss for a moment, moaned, and quickly moved back in, sucking, biting and consuming one another.

Natasha placed her hands on either side of his shoulders to prop herself up, biting her lip and grinding her bare middle against him. He cupped her breasts through her shirt, smirking when she gasped as he pinched her left nipple. Hard.

“I want you,” he said hoarsely, panting when she lowered her head and attacked his throat again. “Please, baby. No more games.”

She huffed against his neck and said, “Fine. As long as you never call me _baby_ again.”

“Mmm,” he hummed, slipped his hand between them and quickly shoved two fingers into her core. She cried out and he chuckled. “Oh baby, how wet you are…”

“Unf–fair…”

Well, she was one to talk. It felt as if he was harder than he’d ever been and he let loose a heavy sigh of relief when Natasha unzipped his jeans. She leaned up slightly and seemed to almost forget her mission as he continued to pump his fingers inside her but then she opened her eyes and remembered. She slipped his cock out of his pants, smiling as she glanced down. Her hand slid upwards and she rolled her thumb over the head, swirling the tiny bead of precome around.

A choked moan left his lips. “Nat…”

She released him for a moment, but only to position herself above him. He hooked his hand behind one of her knees and lifted her up to wrap her legs further up around his waist. When she’d settled, he poised himself at her entrance and right as he was about to plunge himself inside her, someone pounded on the door.

“Oh, come on,” Bucky breathed.

“Barnes? Are you in there?” Barton called from outside.

_Goddamn Clint._

Bucky heaved an annoyed breath. “I’m busy!”

“Stark’s here. And Steve said we should join them in the kitchen.”

“Thought they’d take longer,” Natasha muttered.

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed worriedly.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” Natasha tried to sooth him, of course knowing where his thoughts were heading.

Bucky sighed. “If they made up, they’d be busy.”

“Ian’s with Tony.”

A pause. Well, that _would_ be a reason for them not to be banging right now. Bucky nodded, then raised his voice, “I’ll be there shortly!”

“I think he’d want you there.”

With an annoyed groan, Bucky opened the door for a little gap and glared at Clint. “Tell him I’ll be down in ten,” he snapped.

Clint’s mouth opened, closed, and opened again. He didn’t try to look behind the door, and instead turned sideways, and nodded. “Gotcha. Hi, Nat.”

“Hi, Clint,” Natasha replied, unbothered.

Bucky cast Barton a pointedly broad smile, pulled the door shut and locked it.

Natasha rolled her eyes at him as he pressed her up against the wall and quickly entered her, sliding to the hilt.

He leaned his forehead on the door next to her cheek and panted, trying to collect himself. Natasha was like a warm embrace, hugging every inch of him with perfection. Once his eyes locked with hers again, the tip of her tongue traced his lips and she pivoted her hips perfectly against his. One corner of his mouth lifted in a seductive smirk and he gripped her hips and started moving inside her.

Natasha clung to his shoulders and let out a mewl when he twisted his hips, rubbing the tip of his cock against a sensitive spot inside her. Settling his hand on Nat’s ass, he walked their connected bodies to the bed. Natasha released a breathless laugh as he pushed her onto the bed. Standing back up, he removed his boots and then slipped his pants off his ankles.

“Take your clothes off.”

Without a beat, Natasha fisted the hem of her shirt and pulled it off her shoulders. He pulled the pants off her, letting them fall to the floor. Once his hand gripped the base of his cock he said, “The bra, too,” and started stroking. With calm fingers, she unhooked her bra and tossed it across the room. Her eyes were fixed on his hand as it moved up and down his shaft.

After he leaned back down, bracing himself with one arm, Bucky pressed his lips against hers and bucked his hips forward, grinning when she cried out as he reentered her. It always felt like hours as they got lost in each other, and it was times like these, when Natasha’s façade crumbled completely under his hands, that he understood how being human was meant to feel—if only for a few minutes.

“James,” she gasped, almost thrashing her head from side to side. Usually, he’d bring his hand between them and stroke her clit until she’d lose it, but he didn’t have a goddamn second hand.

Growling in frustration, Bucky muttered, “Touch yourself. Please.”

Natasha was kinda out of it, but she brought a shaking hand down, gasping a second later. They moved in a perfect rhythm, back and forth, and Bucky moaned when her inner walls gripped him tight as she came. The words ‘I love you’ were spilling out when he came as well. He probably said something that was close to her name but came out as mostly growling, and collapsed on top of her, both of them swallowing gulps of air.

“ _Fuck_ , Tasha,” he said reverently, kissing her forehead.

“That was the idea,” she said, and laughed with him. Her small hands brushed hair out of his face, then down his neck, until one of them touched the stump on his right shoulder.

Every other woman would’ve either pulled her hand back so she wouldn’t make him feel awkward, or say something sappy. Natasha, however, leaned in and pressed a kiss against the round metal stump and cast him a smirk. “Kinda miss that guy.”

Bucky snorted. He really loved that woman. “You and me both.”

Natasha grinned, and it was obvious that she knew something he didn’t.

Of course, she wouldn’t tell him.

Pulling out of her, he flopped down on the bed, brushing his hand over her abdomen.

"Why do you think Stark came over?" he asked.

"Isn't that obvious? He wanted to see Steve.”

“But why now? He didn’t really make a big thing out of Thanksgiving last year. What if he’s fed up with the situation, and thought this was the polite way to go about it.”

“Tony?” Natasha asked. “Oh, come on. He’s working his ass off to get Steve back. He isn’t fed up.”

A soft sigh escaped his lips. “It’s my fault, Nat. Anything that happens… If Stark breaks up with him…”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Tony wouldn’t break up with him. He’s been wallowing in lover’s grief for weeks.”

“I couldn’t stand it… if I’d ruined Steve’s life.”

“You haven’t,” Natasha said, more forcefully. “And even if that were the case, Steve’s a big boy. He’s making his own decisions.”

Bucky sighed once more as he glanced at her. He knew that was true, but it wouldn’t make the fallout any less true.

He was the only reason they were all in this mess. He was the reason Clint and Scott didn’t get to see their families, and the reason Steve had to stay here, dying a little more every day.

 

* * *

 

Even after a year of being with Tasha, and it still felt surreal to him. Like a dream. One of those desperate fantasies of domesticity he used to conjure up when he and Steve were teenagers. Having a girl to call his own, someone to come home to after a good day’s work.

He knew that it wasn’t a fantasy, of course. Enough time had passed that he could trust this life was real. Yet, it didn’t quite seem like reality. Because apart from those last few months, things had been too pleasant, altogether too comfortable, and he knew that he didn’t deserve it.

Staying in Avengers Tower, every morning waking up in Tasha’s bed, her body curled around him. Tangled limbs and soft red hair, one hand lying splayed across the silken expanse of her naked back. Listening to the sound of her breathing, the throb of her heartbeat. Of course he didn’t deserve it.

But he _had_ it. That was the amazing thing. Every single morning, he had it.

He still couldn’t wrap his mind around that fact. That he’d done so many horrible things, fucked up everything so completely. That despite it all, somehow, he’d ended up with this.

It didn’t seem right.

His eyes followed her as she dressed, moving from the bathroom to his small closet, pulling out one of his shirts. She slipped out of the bedroom and a few moments later, he could hear the sound of her humming as she showered. The same Russian melody every time; he knew all the tunes. When she reappeared, dressed in a simple jeans and his shirt, her red hair was damp and smelled like coconut.

She looked perfect—she _was_ perfect—and he could not fathom why she chose to be with him, after everything he had done to her.

She tilted her head at him when she found him staring. “You planning to go down there like this?”

He looked down at himself—he was still fully naked. “You would like that.”

A sly grin played with her lips. “Very much. Now, come on.”

He was stalling, they both knew it. Facing Stark after everything… it wasn’t exactly on his list of things to look forward to.

“He won’t bite,” Natasha said, her voice gentle. “Don’t be a coward.”

With a deep breath, he raised himself to his feet, putting on his old clothes with fast movements. She was right, of course, he’d have to face Stark eventually.

Together, they made their way through the various corridors. Outside of the ceiling-high windows, the afternoon was getting darker and darker, the sky over the jungle taking on that greenly-grey color of boiled beans. Inside, the fluorescent lights asserted themselves to give him the beginning of a headache. The whole complex of T’Challa’s palace smelled sort of like… wet grass. As if the wild nature outside hadn’t yet accepted the modern building in its middle. As if it was slowly trying to wind its way into the stone, breaking it from within.

It felt as if, eventually, this place was meant to be broken. Which, for him, fit.

They walked closer to their makeshift debriefing room. T’Challa had temporarily disposed of one of his many living rooms, so they could have a place to talk and eat and watch movies in private. At first, Steve had kept reminding them that they couldn’t know if there were any bugs or cameras, and thus had to be careful what to do and say, but after a few weeks in, they had all agreed that T’Challa already had all the leverage on them he needed, and if he truly wanted to rat them out, he would.

In any case, there hadn’t been much to debrief, but Bucky knew Steve had been grateful for that symbol of normalcy.

Hand in hand, Bucky and Natasha made their way towards the door and Bucky braced himself mentally for what was to come. He knew Steve and Tony had sort-of made up after Steve had travelled to New York, but the fact that Stark had simply turned up here all of a sudden… it could mean anything.

With a steady hand, Natasha pulled him towards the door, and they both came to a stop in front of it.

“This is going to be a nightmare,” Bucky heard Tony say, and the words made him stop in his tracks.

Steve chuckled. “Where’s the trust?”

“Trust? I’m freaking out here!”

“Really? I couldn’t tell. Come on, let’s just get this over with.”

“I think it looks good,” someone else—Sam—supplied, “but I…”

“Tony—” Steve tried.

“Nope, it’s a mess. Why did I think this was a good idea? I’m going insane. I make Ross look like some Socrates-like philosopher. I—”

Steve burst out laughing and with that, curiosity got the better of Bucky. He opened the door slightly to take a look. Steve and Tony were standing in the middle of the room, with Steve taking Tony by the shoulders while the smaller man looked, as he’d said himself, to be a second from freaking out. His forehead was sweaty, his shirt stained with various substances. He looked thinner than Bucky remembered, his lips pale, dark streaks under his eyes as though he hadn’t been sleeping. Behind the two, a large turkey sat on the kitchen counter, circled by dozens of half-filled bowls and pans and plates.

The rest of the team, Bruce, Wanda, Vision, Clint, Scott, Sam and Pietro were sitting around the kitchen, all with varying degrees of amusement on their faces. Even the Spiderman guy—Peter—sat on one of the chairs next to James Rhodes, grinning like it was his birthday and Christmas combined.

“Sweetheart,” Steve said slowly, “calm down. It’s all right. All right? It doesn’t have to be perfect. And you don’t have to do it alone. Please let us help.”

The next thing Bucky knew, Tony buried his face in Steve’s chest. “I really wanted to do this for you.” Tony pulled back reluctantly, shaking his head. “But I guess that was stupid. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“We've been trying to figure that out for years,” Clint said, his tone teasing.

Tony flipped him off, rolling his eyes when Clint blew him a kiss in return.

“Your opinion doesn’t matter, birdbrain,” Tony said. “You nearly shot me.”

“There is no such thing as me ‘nearly shooting’ anything and you know it,” Clint replied, and as if to prove his words, he picked up a peanut from the bowl in front of him, throwing it right at Tony’s forehead.

And it would’ve hit dead center, if Steve didn’t catch it in mid-air, popping it into his mouth instead. “Be nice, Clint”, he reprimanded.

“I am being nice. Right, dear?”

Tony snorted, and nodded. Something in his tense posture shifted then, and Bucky could see as he visibly relaxed. “Alright,” Tony said, “let’s get this thing done?”

“Yeah, let’s salvage what we can,” Steve agreed.

“ _What we can?_ ” Tony echoed. “What happened to your optimism?”

Steve shrugged. “Calmed you down, didn’t I?”

Tony’s mouth was hanging open. “Exile has made you cruel and cold-hearted. _Ass_.”

The insult had no punch. Tony clearly wasn’t angry; rather, his entire being almost thrummed with energy.

Steve laughed, and leaned in to press a soft kiss against Tony’s forehead.

“See,” Natasha whispered next to Bucky, smiling. “Told you it’s all fine.”

He nodded, feeling the relief rush through him when he saw Steve’s happy expression.

“Don’t worry,” Steve told Tony, still grinning broadly. “I’m willing to take the fall for your shortcomings.”

Tony snorted as he punched Steve’s shoulder. Then, he walked back around the kitchen counter and pointed to the raw turkey. “Should we get that thing in the oven now?”

“Yeah. It’s supposed to cook for four hours or so,” Steve said.

“It’s a twenty-pounder,” Wanda mused. “So four to five, yes.”

“Good. We just have to find a thermometer,” Steve murmured, turning around.

“Turkeys are ready when the thickest part of the thigh reaches about one hundred and eighty degrees,” Bruce said.

Tony sighed. “How do you know these things?”

“Betty once taught me.” He gestured to the island. “Also, T’Challa’s has a huge library and I was bored.”

“The thermometer’s in the cabinet,” Sam told them from the sidelines. He had Ian on his left leg, bouncing him and laughing when Ian giggled happily.

"Unca!" he said.

"No, it's 'Favorite Uncle'. Try again."

"Favunca!"

Steve chuckled as he finished his survey of the fridge and closed the door. He turned around. “Okay, guys, here’s the plan: Bruce, Pietro, Scott, you’re making dessert. Vision, Wanda, you’re making the soup. Clint, Peter… uh, you can assist them…”

“Thanks, Mr. Rogers!” Peter blurted, just as Clint snapped an insulted, “I _can_ cook, alright?”

Steve ignored him. “Tony, you can help me with the side dishes. Jim, Sam…” He turned around, where Sam and Rhodes were both currently following Ian across the room. Steve smiled. “Yeah, just… keep doing that.”

“He’s in full Cap mode,” Natasha mused, and surprised Bucky with a kiss to his cheek. Then, she was about to open the door so they would make their presence known. Bucky stopped her with a touch on her arm, because—dammit, he knew he was being a coward about this, but they all seemed so _happy_ , carefree and unburdened, and he didn’t want to spoil the mood. Natasha, however, ignored him, and pushed the door open.

Staying in the shadows for a moment, Bucky took a deep breath, then followed her over the threshold. As expected, all conversations immediately stilled.

Natasha, as pragmatic as ever, squeezed his hand one more time, before she sauntered into the room, bee lining for what looked to be cake frosting.

Not knowing what else to do, he raised his hand in greeting.

“Hi,” Tony said, and Bucky watched him grimace slightly at the awkward greeting.

“Hi,” he returned just as awkward, his eyes briefly flickering towards Ian, who, just as Steve had told him, had gotten real big—and apparently able to walk. When he looked back at Tony, the guy was brushing a hand through his hair, as he visibly searched for words.

“Thanksgiving dinner?” Bucky offered as he walked into the room.

“Yeah!” Tony exclaimed. “It’s… well, I brought the supplies, and I kinda planned to cook for everyone, but it’s just…”

“Unnecessarily stressful,” Steve said. “We’re all here. We’re cooking together. Buck can chop the vegetables.” On the last word, a frown appeared on Steve’s face as his eyes flickered to Bucky’s form—and the missing right arm. “I mean, uh…”

“I can chop with my other hand. Don’t sweat it,” Bucky said, really _not_ wanting to discuss his handicap any further.

And with that, the next hour was a blur of easy conversation and Bucky let himself dive into this feeling of normalcy. It all felt surreal, all of them being together once more, and there was still a bit of a tension beneath the chatter and smiles, but he had a feeling that would fade soon enough. Vision and Wanda were talking quietly next to the stove, Bruce and Pietro animatedly discussed traditional apple pie recipes while Scott was busy nibbling at apple slices. Steve and Tony were standing so close to each other it was a wonder they were getting anything done and Sam and Rhodes were in the living room, playing hide and seek with Ian.

Those people had never stopped being friends, and Bucky was glad for it. He simply didn’t know where he fit into that picture, now more so than ever.

Preparing dinner didn’t take much. Steve, predictably, did the bulk of the work, while calling out orders here and there.

“Will you marry me and be my cook?” Tony asked from where he was sitting down at the dinner table. T’Challa had at one point joined them, and Bucky watched as he talked to Ian, who was hanging in Nat’s arms, with a low soothing voice.

Steve tossed him a narrow glance over his shoulder. “Again?” he retorted, as he carried the last two plates to the table.

“Sure,” Tony said, smiling.

“You wanted to make turkey without butter,” Steve reminded him. “Don’t know if I can move on from that.”

Tony laughed, and his smile only turned soft when Steve stepped up to him. “I would marry you again in a heartbeat.”

“Me too,” Tony confessed, pressing a kiss on Steve’s lips.

“Are they always like this?” T’Challa asked Natasha.

“Will you throw us out if I say yes?”

“No, but I’ll reconsider my future visits.”

Natasha laughed. “Fair enough.”

Everyone had taken a seat around the table, and Bucky watched as Steve and Tony shared a look that meant business, before Steve cleared his throat. He raised himself to his feet.

“Before we eat, I just wanted to say that Tony and I… we figured out a plan.”

“Kind of a plan,” Tony corrected from his seat.

Steve rolled his eyes. “ _Kind of a plan_ , yes, darling.”

The endearment brought a timid smile to Tony’s lips, which had both Clint and Sam pinch their noses at the exact same moment.

Good old times, Bucky thought with a private smile.

“Tony is about to get approval for a new draft of the Sokovia Accords. One that I believe will be something we can all agree to. But we won’t do it if any of you aren’t on board with it. This is a team decision.”

Tony nodded, his face serious. “I sent you all the recent draft, along with commentaries on what changes I still plan to push through. Ross isn’t exactly helpful but the past weeks have shown that it’s something that can be achieved.”

“In the meantime,” Steve continued, “we will stay here. We will train as usual, and Tony said he can arrange a few rare visits between our teams, and he can bring you to your family and vice versa.” Steve looked at both Clint and Scott.

“That’s…” Clint started, then nodded. “Great. Thanks, Tony.”

Scott smiled. “Thanks, man.”

“So the plan is to sit this out,” Wanda concluded.

“In a nutshell, yes,” Tony said. “I know this year has been hard on all of us, but I do believe we can move on from here.” His eyes flickered briefly to Bucky, before they continued with their round towards the rest of the team. “So we’ll make the best of what we have, and once this mess is settled, we’ll all go back to our lives, more or less. I'll leave it to you if you want to return to the tower, or resign from the team, but consider yourself invited.”

Rhodes was the first to raise his glass, directing it at Tony. “To a better next year.”

Clint nodded. “And fuck this one.”

“Hear, hear,” Sam said, reaching for his glass as well. The others followed suit, and Tony almost looked bashful, as they all clinked glasses.

 

* * *

 

After dinner—after the table had been cleared from the various dishes, it took about ten minutes before the first person, Clint, had announced movie night.

Bucky lingered for a while, staring at the screen while his thoughts spread into several directions at once. He was… relieved, and happy, and on the other hand, kind of empty.

Excusing himself, he headed towards one of the bathrooms. Instead of going in, however, he walked further along the corridors, and came to a halt in front of the large windows. There was a minor storm outside, the wind rustling through the trees and distant flashes illuminating the jungle.

“I don’t remember you brooding so much,” someone said behind Bucky, and when he turned around, he saw Tony leaning against the wall a few meters away.

“Then you haven’t been paying attention,” Bucky replied, his gaze once more on the trees beyond.

Tony hummed, and there were steps, and then he stood next to him. The arc reactor shining through his shirt cast a dimmed light against the window front. Bucky tried not to look at his mirror image, but eventually, his eyes flickered sideways. Tony’s gaze was locked on the stump where Bucky’s metal arm had been.

Tony noticed him looking and cleared his throat. “T’Challa has a workshop.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Bucky said, shaking his head. A part of him had been sure that Tony wouldn’t go through with repairing the arm, not after everything. That he’d throw the remains of it in the trash and never look at it again. But deep inside he’d known that the guy wouldn’t be able to help himself, in the end.

“I fix things,” Tony explained with a pensive expression. “It’s what I do.”

_I can’t be fixed_ , Bucky thought, brushing his hand over the stump.

“You still don’t have to do that,” he objected.

Tony shook his head. “I almost killed you. I think it’s the least I can do.”

Those words shook him, and he wondered at the sentiment. How Tony could possibly see it that way? Perhaps he shouldn’t have been surprised, but it still felt wrong.

“I _did_ kill your parents,” he said and watched Tony’s expression darkening for a brief moment. Then, the guy squared his shoulders, and turned sideways, so he looked straight at Bucky.

Bucky didn’t want to face him, but he couldn’t deny Tony this. So he turned around as well, staring at him.

“No,” Tony said. “You _didn’t_. I forgot about that for a moment, back there, but it’s all very clear now. _You_ —you didn’t kill anyone. HYDRA did. And now, come on. The shop’s downstairs. Won’t even take half an hour.”

“Tony,” Bucky said, sighing.

Tony’s eyes once more flickered to the stump where his metal arm had been. “What, don’t you want your arm back?”

There wasn’t exactly much Bucky could say to that. Of course, he did. As much as he had hated the thing once, after Bruce and Tony had freed him of the implants in his head—as much as he couldn’t forget what that arm had done and how much grief it had caused, he also felt lost without it. Incomplete. So he released another sigh, then followed Tony through the corridors and into an elevator.

Tony led him to the floor below and Bucky couldn’t drag his eyes off of him. It was… hard to believe that he was here in the first place—that he’d decided to face the whole team after what had happened, but the fact that he wanted to do this for him… it felt like he was still somehow asleep.

“Nice,” Tony murmured as the doors opened and revealed a huge workshop. The lights went on and the room felt almost somberly quiet. When Bucky trailed past Tony into the large front parlor with a deep bowed window, he saw Tony’s hands trembling slightly. Could he be nervous? When was he ever?

Then again… maybe he was afraid of him. It would be the reasonable thing to feel. He knew Tony could hold himself up in a fight, but when it came down to it, they both knew Bucky could kill him in a heartbeat as long as he wasn’t in the armor.

He’d caused far too much damage to be forgiven. He’d hurt Tony so much. The look in his eyes when he’d seen his parents die had haunted Bucky all through the nights to follow.

“You coming?” Tony called, and Bucky blinked when he saw him standing next to a table. Only then, he spotted his bionic arm lying on the surface.

“Oh for God’s sake, Barnes, get over here,” Tony said. “I have to leave in about eight hours and I plan to spend most of it in a bed with my husband, so could we get it over with?”

Bucky grimaced. There was a picture he didn’t need.

With a low breath, Bucky sat down, and within the next minutes, Tony busied himself with getting the arm back in place. His movements were precise and efficient, just as the few times Tony had worked on his arm before.

“I made a few improvements while I was at it,” Tony murmured at one point.

That forced a toneless huff out of Bucky’s mouth. “Of course you did.”

Tony glanced at him, and smiled.

Bucky had a sinking feeling he knew where this was going. And he wasn’t sure how to feel about it. He could see it in Tony’s eyes—the hope to move on from what happened, but Bucky also knew he didn’t deserve it. He needed to make amends. He needed to earn his friendship, rather than have Tony tell him the past was forgiven. There were miles to go before his debt was repaid.

“Why would you want me around?” he asked, when he couldn’t hold the words in any longer. “You don’t owe me anything. I know I’m Steve’s friend, and I’ll always be, but you don’t have to pretend to like me. I’m Steve’s friend, _you_ are his husband. The Sokovia Accords was one thing, but faced with a simple choice, Steve would always choose you.”

“Well, for a fact, I do,” Tony said, not denying Bucky’s words. “Like you, I mean.”

“You don’t,” Bucky said, frowning.

Tony sighed, letting go of the arm for a moment. “I do. You’re the only one in the team with a decent taste for coffee. You can tease Steve even more than me. You make Nat giggle, which is as scary as it is awesome and most importantly, Ian adores you, and he’s my boss, so…” He looked at him, and there was nothing in his gaze that suggested he didn’t mean exactly what he said. “I was wary about you first. You and Steve, you have a history that, to be honest, made me kind of jealous. But you’re his best friend, and a decent person, I don’t see why we shouldn’t get along just fine.”

Bucky hadn’t realized he was holding his breath until the weight on his chest lifted in splendid reprieve. “I… You shouldn’t have to remember this every time you see me. I don’t want to be a burden.”

Tony held up a hand, and Bucky felt both a sense of calm appreciation as well as terribly out of place.

“You’re not a burden. You’re my team member, and you’re my friend, as far as I’m concerned. There wasn’t anything to forgive in the first place, and I shouldn’t have said and done what I did, but that’s not something I can undo so… I apologize.”

Bucky shook his head. He wasn’t one to apologize to. “Don’t.”

Tony slumped in his chair, drumming his fingers uneasily on the table edge. But when he spoke, he sounded calm. “It takes time,” he said.

Bucky frowned. "What?"

“To get used to having friends and a family. Trust me, at first I couldn’t stand having the others around all the time. I was sure they weren’t there for the long run, and I couldn’t have been more wrong. You’re a part of this gig now, and we won’t leave you behind.”

Something plummeted in Bucky’s gut. He didn’t know what to say.

Tony cleared his throat. “Did you have any pains?”

“Came and went,” Bucky replied. “Bruce helped.”

Tony nodded and took his hands from the arm. “Well, I hope that's over now. I’m done.”

Bucky moved the arm up and down, then left and right. Making a fist, then releasing a finger one by one. He smiled. How Tony still managed to improve the arm’s movements was beyond him. Every time he thought it worked perfectly now, and every time, he was proven wrong.

Next to him, Tony nodded, obviously satisfied.

“You’re my friend, too,” Bucky said, then, inwardly grimacing. He’d never been good at those kinds of talks, declaring his feelings and whatnot, not even before the war. It had always been strangely easy with Steve, but otherwise, he just didn’t know how to truly be himself around others.

Tony raised a brow, clearly surprised. “You don’t have to say that just to make me feel better.”

“I don’t,” Bucky said, bracing himself. “I wouldn’t. You can be an ass, if you want, but so can I, and you… you’ve been good to Steve, and you gave Nat a family when she probably thought she didn’t need one, and… ah fuck, you’re a decent person, too, Stark, and I think we’ve been friends longer than we both like to admit, anyway.”

“Right,” Tony said. After a moment, he quirked a smile. “That was hard for you, wasn’t it?”

Bucky snorted, using the arm to shove Tony a bit. “Shut up.”

“Not likely, Elsa. There will be friendship bracelets now, and insider jokes, and couples’ nights. From here on out, you'll hear this beautiful voice every day.”

“I hate you,” Bucky said, standing up from the chair and walking towards the elevator.

“No you don’t,” Tony sing-songed, and Bucky had the feeling that he would have to fight the urge to strangle Tony for a whole long while in the nearer future.

A smile tugged on his lips at the thought.

 

* * *

 

Ian was sleeping on Steve’s chest, his tiny face squished, his fingers buried in Steve’s shirt. Steve had his hand on Ian’s back, caressing him with soft touches. He could look at his son for hours, feeling his steady heartbeat, ignoring the movie that ran on the television completely. Only when he heard steps nearing, he glanced up.

The others were either asleep or actually watching the movie, most of them tangled into another, even Wanda and Vision, who shared a blanket on the far end of the couch, but Steve’s eyes were drawn towards the door. Bucky and Tony stepped into the room—Bucky with a new arm, Tony with a small smile on his face. Immediately, Steve felt a weight lifting from his shoulders, the worry that had been gnawing on his mind for the last half hour dissipating.

When Tony walked up to him, Steve raised a questioning brow, and smiled, when Tony gave a tiny nod in return. He tugged him down beside him, carefully repositioning so he wouldn’t wake Ian. Tony curled into his embrace before resting his head on Steve’s shoulder.

“What did I miss?” Tony whispered, looking at the screen.

“I have absolutely no idea,” Steve countered. For once, they’d decided to watch a movie they hadn’t seen already, but he’d just been too immersed in his own thoughts to follow the plot.

“Fair enough,” Tony said, then grinned, and leaned in for a kiss. Steve wound an arm around him, his lips brushing Tony’s cheek, then his mouth. God, he loved how attuned to everything Tony was; the love he expressed with the slightest touch, the briefest smiles that had been there from the beginning.

“Mmm,” Tony murmured, his eyes fluttering shut, enjoying the soft caresses Steve played across his neck. “That feels nice.”

Steve nodded, brushing a wisp of hair out of Tony’s face.

It did feel nice, and Steve let his mind drift a bit. With his two favorite persons near, all of his worries, the insecurities, the frustration—became meaningless.

“He still talks about you every day,” Tony said at one point, his voice quiet, one hand settling on Ian’s head. “In case you wondered.”

Steve frowned, opening his mouth, then closing it again.

“I saw your look, earlier,” Tony explained. “When he turned away from you. You don’t have to worry. You’re his hero, I’m always telling him that you’re not there only because you try to make the world a better place.”

“That’s—”

“The truth,” Tony said. He quirked a smile. “Or do you want to say that I’m lying to our baby?”

Steve rolled his eyes. He looked down at Ian, and pressed a kiss on his forehead.

“Thank you,” he said, sighing softly when Tony moved even closer, holding him tight.

There was peace within him, then. Peace that Steve hadn't thought the world had to offer anymore. Peace that he thought had died in this stupid war between them. But here they were—Tony’s arms were around him, and he gave him peace. He looked at him with love that took Steve’s breath away. He infused his being with hope.

They would have forever for everything else. To deal with Ross, to find answers to all those numerous questions, to be the heroes this world needed. It was a cool November evening, and for the first time in what seemed an eternity, Steve’s life was cushioned in solace. Bucky cast him a smile when he noticed Steve looking, and Tony was slowly falling asleep in his arms.

With his family at his side, this lost place in the jungle might as well be paradise.


End file.
